Recovering Hope
by NeedAUsernameWhyNotZoidberg
Summary: Katniss is broken. She's back in District 12, but her life is empty. With all the stress of war gone, reality is hitting her... hard. Peeta is crazy. At least he thinks so. He suffers from violent episodes every night, and crippling depression during the day. Can life ever be good again? They both doubt it, but maybe they can help each other recover some hope for the future.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi guys! This is my first "real" fanfic, but I hope there will be many more to come. This story is about how Katniss and Peeta grow back together at the end of Mockingjay and it should be a pretty long story with a lot of chapters and details. This chapter may seem a little boring at first but I promise it will get better! Updates will come very often and as I'm sure you've heard before: Please read and review! (Seriously, I just want to know if people are reading it, and so even if you hate it, review anyways! Well, that's enough of me yapping. On with the show! :D **

**Disclaimer: No matter how many pennies I've thrown into a wishing well, I am NOT Suzanne Collins and therefore don't own anything.**

_ I watch as he walks towards me, whispering my name with the other mutts, smiling as he tells me that I deserve this. That I caused all of this. I watch as Prim, Rue, Gale, my mother, my father, Haymitch, and all those I've ever cared for stand in front of me, desperately trying to stop him from coming closer. My pleas and screams for them to run fall on deaf ears. They fall one by one as he walks towards me. I watch as Peeta kills everyone I've ever cared for. He saves himself for last._

_I look down at him beneath my feet and watch his blood flow over my shoes. I watch as it mingles with the ashes of my district, crimson staining grey. I watch, then I wake up._

I wake to a pounding head, aching heart, and a throat raw from screaming. I stretch out in my bed and unravel myself from my sweaty sheets as I do so. I think about getting up for a glass of water. Rule it out. It is the dead of night and there's no telling how many ghosts await downstairs by the kitchen sink. Maybe I should go anyway, and face my fears the way Dr. Aurelius tells me to. I truly think about it for a moment, but a part of me tells me to stay. I compromise by turning over to face the window and watch the stars slowly recede from the night sky.

Hours, days, months, years may pass for all I know but I stay staring out the window. When the sky lightens enough to tell me I've only spent hours in this bed, I get up and stretch my limbs. It is painful, and all the ugly patches of melted skin and skin grafts make each movement a struggle. I look down at the patchwork quilt that is my body and get lost in visions of snakes, roses, fire, explosions, and children dying before my eyes. I think of the children and my brain leads me to the events that happened immediately following the bombs. Prim... it's been months since that awful day and yet each detail is irrevocably branded in my mind. I stop my train of thought by quickly looking out the window again. I can't shed any more tears today. I've shed too much already and I honestly think that my body couldn't produce any more to save my life. Not that it matters... My life is past saving anyway.

I try to rid myself of my dark thoughts by turning to my closet and getting dressed. I don a light shirt, pants, my hunting boots, and my fathers hunting jacket and head outside into the summer air. I look across the street to Haymitch's house and see him passed out on his lawn. Might as well help him since I'm already up. As I walk towards him I trip and fall on my face in the street. My delicate skin on my hands rip as I catch myself, and I start to bleed slightly. I get up slowly and kick the shovel that tripped me into the primrose bushes. My throat starts to close when I remember why they're there. I wonder why in the hell the shovel is in my lawn when I recall the events of the day before.

I was watching Peeta weed the ground surrounding her bushes. A jealousy overcame me while I watched. A jealously springing from the fact that he is functioning at a way higher level than me. That he is doing more for her than I am. A bitter taste crept in my mouth and I resolved to visit the woods that afternoon and bring back more bushes to expand her garden. I only made it as far as the edge of the Seam before I had to rest. My body is slowly deteriorating despite my refusal to admit it. As I continued to the Meadow I passed Thom with his dead people cart dropping off the last of the bodies left to be buried. I tried not to notice his staring at my ruined body, matted hair and overall gaunt appearance. I quickly found the bushes I wanted and brought them back to my house. Then I spent the following half hour transplanting them in the very front of my lawn. Exhaustion overcame me before I could put the shovel away, whichf course led me to my stupid fall now. I look at the scraggly young bushes and compare them with the fuller ones Peeta planted two months ago. Mine are ugly and dark, barely beginning to bloom while his are healthy looking and robust; filled with life. The metaphor is not lost on me. Disgusted with myself, I walk over to Haymitch and lightly kick his leg.

"Haymitch!" I say. He is dead to the world so I head back to my house and fill one of my mother's cooking pots with ice-cold water. I cross the street again and reach Haymitch, dumping the contents of the pot over his face.

He wakes up with a start, brandishing his liquor bottle as he would with the knife he sleeps with.

"I'll kill you! I'll kill y-" he splutters madly. He calms down only when I reassure him that it's only me.

"What the hell Katniss?! Can't a man get any sleep around here?" he shouts.

"Haymitch, it's 7 in the morning and you're passed out on your lawn. Go inside and get to bed!" I'm unused to ordering him around, but on occasion I've had to do this before. Like that time I found him delirious on the middle of our street, wandering in circles and muttering about rabid squirrels and exotic birds.

"What's your problem, huh?" he slurs, "I thought people were supposed to be happy on their birthday." After that he promptly staggers to his doorstep, trips on the steps, picks himself up, and goes inside.

Huh. Who knew Haymitch would know it was my birthday before I did. I suppose it makes sense. I returned home roughly five months ago on January 16th. I only remember that day so precisely because it marked a turning point in my life. When I was abandoned by my mother and started living by myself for the first time. I take a last look at Haymitch's house and turn around. I walk absentmindedly down the road, wondering if I have enough strength to hunt today, when I hear him.

Peeta is calling my name and I am surprised to see I'm still in sight of my house. He walks up to me and gives me an awkward greeting and a large green box.

"Um... Hi Katniss. I just wanted to give you this... Happy Birthday."


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey everyone, this is the second installment of Recovering Hope! I can't believe how quickly this story is taking off and thank you all for the awesome reviews! This chapter is short and sweet and definitely not my favorite. But I promise it'll get better! As always, read and review!**

**Disclaimer: Sadly I am not Suzanne Collins and therefore don't own her story. **

For the first time in a long time I am able to get a close look at Peeta. I am surprised to see that my assumptions that he is strong and healthy are wrong. Like me, he has shadows under his eyes. Shadows that look like bruises and are a result of many sleepless nights. His shoulders, once strong and broad, droop forward a little and I can see marks on his wrist from where he has tried to hold himself together. There are so many and they're so new that I can tell his episodes have gotten no better. In fact, this Peeta is so unlike the Peeta of my thoughts that the only similarity I see between them are the color of his eyes. Bright blue orbs that penetrate mine with the intensity of someone who is still not sure they aren't in the vicinity of a mutt. I remember a time when that thought made me want to cry. Now it just fills me with a familiar tiredness as I add it to my list of things to be sad about. I take all of this in in an instant, and I try smiling as I take the box from his hands. The muscles I use to smile hurt from disuse and I have the feeling it looks more like a grimace anyway. I stop trying.  
"You know it's my birthday?"  
"Yes. I remember I asked you when it was that day before our last interviews. On the roof. " his voice sounds confident but I can see in his face he's struggling to separate truth from lies. He's probably trying to figure out if that picnic on the roof was real or just another part of the lie Snow put in his brain. He must decide its real because he smiles and nods at the box.  
"Open it."  
I open the box and inside I find a beautifully iced cake. 'Happy 18th Birthday Katniss' is spelled out in a delicate shade of white frosting, and the letters sit atop the most beautiful shade of orange I've ever seen. Somehow Peeta has captured the fiery blaze of a setting sun and spread it onto my cake.  
"Wow, Peeta. This is really amazing. Thank you," I say. As I look up into his eyes, I wonder at how he remembers that day on the roof despite the poison that ran through his veins for so long. I stand there, unsure of what to do next, when a question springs unbidden from my lips.  
"Would you like to come over tonight and eat it with me?"  
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Where the hell did that come from? I wish I could take it back but it's too late now. His eyes widen in alarm and I could tell he wasn't expecting this.  
"Um... Sure. I-I'll come..." He stammers.  
"You don't have to come if you don't want to. Haymitch is coming over at 7," I lie, "It's just for some small birthday dinner. But it's not a big deal..." Great. Now I've dragged Haymitch into this as well. I make a mental note to drag him out of his house later and tell him to come over.  
"N-no, I'll go," he says unsteadily. "It would be... nice to see Haymitch again. I haven't seen him since I got back." This doesn't surprise me like it should. Before my encounter with him just now, I hadn't spoken to my mentor for about three weeks. He spends most of his time wandering around his house with a liquor bottle in his hand, or down by the grimy old train station demanding to know when the next train of booze is due to arrive.  
"Well I'll see you later, then," I say, effectively ending our conversation. I hold the box tight in my arms and head back home. I only look back once I have reached the safe shadows of my porch. I see Peeta walking slowly towards town, dragging his feet dejectedly and clutching his right wrist with his left hand. I take a deep breath and push my front door open. I pretend not to here his deranged muttering about mutts and roses.

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	3. Chapter 3

**Wow- _two updates in one day?! _You guys sure are lucky to have me! Haha just kidding, I'm so happy to have over three hundred views of my story less than a day after I posted the first chapter. :) people from over eleven different countries have read this, and I feel so blessed. This chapter is short, so think of it as a type of**** sneak peak for the next chapter (which will be longer than the first one!). Anyways, thank you all so much for the reviews, and keep them coming! Also, don't hesitate to PM me if you have any ideas you want me to think about adding into the story, or for any questions you may have. As always, please read and review! (Even if you've reviewed before!).  
**

**Disclaimer: I wish I owned the Hunger Games series, but I don't. So here you go:**

I have twenty minutes until Haymitch and Peeta come knocking at my door. I have twenty minutes, and I'm panicking. Who knew that throwing a stupid birthday party would cause a person this much stress? Who knew that apparently I'm too crazy to go through with this, and it would probably be best if I just called them both now and called the whole thing off? I'm sure Haymitch would be delighted. When I told him what was going on earlier this afternoon, he made it crystal clear he had no intention of going to this thrown together excuse of a celebration. If I remember right, his exact words were: "I'll go to your party when you start combing your hair and I get sober. Now get out my house... Sweetheart." I guess I've heard worse from Haymitch, but it still stung nonetheless. Although to be fair I had just dumped ice cold water on him for the second time today.

The clock persists in inching its way towards seven o'clock, so I decide to make myself look presentable for once. I head upstairs to take a shower, trying to avoid the bathroom mirror as I get undressed. It doesn't matter. There's no avoiding my ugly, naked, scarred, fire mutt body and I know it. Shiny pink scars run across my back and around my torso, down my legs and up into my mind. They stay there, dancing around the edges of my vision and taunting me with flashbacks of parachutes and death. I shudder and rush into the shower, trying unsuccessfully to drown out the sounds of wailing children with the soft lull of rushing water. After I have scrubbed myself clean, I step out of the shower and place my feet on a rubber mat. This mat is exactly the same as the one in my old bathroom at the Training Center, and within seconds I'm bone dry and my hair flows down my back in a glossy curtain. It is almost as long as it used to be when I was sixteen and innocent. Long before Prim's name was called at the reaping and I had to volunteer for her.

This bathroom is intent on making me relive my past horrors, so I quickly exit and find a new outfit to put on. I settle for one of the simpler ones Cinna made for me before the Victory Tour. A long green tunic that belts underneath my rib cage, flowing black pants that tuck neatly into soft leather boots. i braid back my hair and for the first time in a long while I almost feel normal. Like myself. One glance at the clock tells me I have ten minutes left. I start to panic again and scream into my pillow. I honestly don't know why I'm so nervous. Maybe it's because I'm about to play host for my own birthday party and I have no idea where to start. It's not like I've ever had a birthday party before. Or maybe it's because I don't think I can go five minutes without having some sort of mental breakdown over a flash back that pops into my head out of nowhere. Yes, that sounds about right.

Five minutes left. My feet fly down the stairs as I run to the kitchen to pull the turkey I shot earlier out of the oven. I couldn't believe my luck when I killed it. It was the first time since I got back that I had actually killed anything with my bow and arrows. Usually I just sat on Gale's and my rendezvous rock and passed the time by staring at the leaves overhead. Sometimes I would play a game by asking myself just how many leaves it would take to fill the spot next to me where Gale used to sit. This turkey had the misfortune to almost run over my toes before I sunk my arrow in its neck. Setting the turkey on the table, I pull my pre-made salad out of the refrigerator and slop the mashed katniss tubers from their pot on the stove into a decorative bowl and set it all down next to the turkey. I set the table, and then do a final cleaning sweep of the bottom floor. At exactly seven o'clock I am sweaty and exhausted, but the house is impeccably clean and the food is hot on the table. Grabbing the cake from the pantry where I left it, I take it out if its box and settle it on a plate in the middle of the clean counter. I wait on the couch until the clock reads seven-oh-five and I hear a knock on the door. I cross over to the foyer, steel myself, then open the door.

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	4. Chapter 4

**As promised, here is the fourth installment of 'Recovering Hope'! Enjoy, and as always; review, review, review!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing**

I squint into the bright light that illuminates my front porch. Just as he promised, Peeta is waiting patiently for me to let him in. Over his shoulder I can see Haymitch slowly making his way towards us, staggering from side to side and looking like someone has stolen his liquor or something. As he crosses the street, I focus on Peeta.

"Hi. Would you like to come in?" Even to my own ears, my voice sounds formal and wrong. Peeta doesn't seem to notice. He steps into my house almost warily, like a cautious animal approaching a human. Although in his mind, I'm probably the who is the animal.

"Sure. Happy birthday Katniss," he says. His voice sounds much more confident than how it sounded when I invited him over earlier. I guess he has decided I won't kill him today because he comes over and stands right next to me, our arms almost touching. Together we watch Haymitch continue his trek up my lawn and up to the bottom of the porch steps. When he gets to the first stair, he reaches into his jacket and throws me something heavy which I have to catch with both hands. A bottle of wine.

"Happy birthday, _sweetheart_," he says caustically, "Take it." His tone of voice tells me he still doesn't want to be here and I'm puzzled as to why he came. He is not usually the type who does things he doesn't want to do. I push aside the thought for the moment and thank him.

"Thanks," I say. My voice must sound unenthusiastic because he rips the bottle from my hands when he gets up the stairs.

"If you don't want it, give it back," Haymitch is definitely in a black mood and from the smell coming off of him, he's dead drunk. I give him a glare and invite them both inside.

"The food's on the table, so we should probably go eat now," I say. Nobody says anything on our way to the table and the silence is almost tangible.

"So... Haymitch, it's nice to see you again," Peeta's attempt at conversation is halfhearted at best but Haymitch replies anyway.

"You too Peeta. You too,"

I dish up everyone's food and Haymitch takes a long time swallowing his first bite. He glares at me with all the hostility it seems he can muster. "Honestly Katniss, who taught you how to cook? This is disgusting." his question hangs in the air like a challenge.

I can't help it. Blood thunders in my ears and I turn in my chair to face him. "What the hell is your problem, Haymitch? You've been doing nothing but arguing with me all day! Why did you even come over here tonight?" My voice is venomous and I talk through gritted teeth.

He sneers at me some more. "What do you mean, 'why did you even come over here'?" His voice rises unbearably when he imitates mine and its all I can do not to slap him. Before I can though, Peeta steps in.

"Knock it off Haymitch. Katniss didn't do anything to you. She cooked this dinner all by herself for us and you should be thanking her, not insulting her. I for one think it tastes great," he turns to face me, "Thank you."

I reluctantly turn away from Haymitch and answer Peeta. "You're welcome Peeta. I'm glad you like it," I meet his eyes with mine and try to exchange a silent thank you with him. Haymitch cuts in again.

"Awww, isn't that sweet? Would the star-crossed lovers like a minute alone? I can leave if you want me to." His voice is so sarcastically sincere it makes me sick. How dare he come in _my_ house, eat _my _food, and insult me like this? I feel my face feet hot and get ready to kick him out of my house when Peeta speaks again.

"That's enough, Haymitch." his voice is commanding and firm, and I can tell he is also getting sick of Haymitch's antics. We continue our meal in silence, and finish quickly. Peeta gathers all of our plates, a gesture I wasn't expecting. Haymitch staggers off into the living room and opens the bottle of wine as he passes me. He drinks it so loudly I can here him swallowing from here. I stand at the sink with Peeta and together we wash the dishes. I feel like I have to break the silence so I try to strike up a conversation.

"Thank you for sticking up for me. I really have no idea why he's doing this."

Peeta smiles a little as he answers. "What do you expect? It's Haymitch. Here's the last plate." He hands me the plate and stays with me until I finish rinsing the soap off it and place it in a wire rack to dry.

"Shall I take the cake out to the living room?" he asks, picking up the cake in one hand and dessert plates in the other.

"Okay," I say, and I follow him out of the kitchen after I grab a large knife and three forks. When I get to the living room, Haymitch is laying on the couch, Peeta is in the chair, and the cake and half empty wine bottle are on the coffee table.

"I tried getting him to move, but he won't budge," Peeta explains. I only nod. I guess I have to wake Haymitch up for the third time today. Oh well, he's already mad at me.

"Haymitch," I say loudly, "if you don't get up right now I swear I'll go get some more ice water. Now sit up, I need a place to sit."

Haymitch groans and slowly slides his feet off the couch until just his upper body remains on the cushions. I prod him with a fork until he gives in and sits up with a sigh. "Alright, alright, I'm up," he says, "Now give me the knife, I'll cut the cake."

One look at him is enough to confirm my thoughts. He should not be trusted around sharp objects right now. "I'll do it," I say, reaching down over the coffee table and preparing to slice the cake.

"I said _I'll_ do it," he slurs, lurching forward and shoving his hand into mine in a pathetic attempt to reach the knife. My hand flies into the wine bottle which tips over and falls on the carpet. Great. Now he is still attempting to get the knife, my hand is dripping in red wine, and the carpet is getting stained. I shove a still struggling Haymitch aside and turn to Peeta for help. Throughout this whole thing he hasn't said a word and I'm surprised by the look on his face when I look at him.

He looks murderous, gripping his left wrist with his right hand. Blood streams down his arm in a slow but steady trickle, and his eyes are so dilated they look black. His teeth are gritted and he's glaring at me with hate in his eyes. I look at my hand, raised in the air and holding the large kitchen knife. The wine is so red it looks like blood and it drips off both the knife and my arm. It lands on Haymitch's head, who is at my feet and struggling to get up. Suddenly I understand. From Peeta's perspective, I have just stabbed Haymitch, and am standing here dripping in his blood. This whole scene has sent Peeta into an episode.

I barely have time to yelp, "Haymitch, help!", before he is on top of me, knocking the knife from my hand and throwing me into the coffee table. It shatters under my weight. Peeta drives his knees into my chest, pinning me underneath him on a floor of wood fragments, frosting, and carpet. Tears run down my cheeks as I narrowly escape getting punched in the face. I close my eyes, prepared to be struck, when suddenly Peeta's crushing weight is gone from my body. I gasp and open my eyes. Haymitch has got Peeta in a headlock, and is saying over and over again: "Peeta stop! She's not a mutt! Calm down! Stop!"

All I can do is stare as the two of them struggle. Peeta is yelling terrible, terrible, things at me as he tries to squirm out of Haymitch's arms. I watch as this goes on for about three minutes, then abruptly stops. Out of nowhere, Peeta is limp in Haymitch's arms. He slides to the floor, and I vaguely wonder if he is dead. I quickly find out he isn't. Dead people don't sob. They don't curl up in the fetal position on the floor and shake harder than I've ever seen anyone shake before. I lock eyes with Haymitch and see that he is crying just as hard as I am. I can't take anymore of this. I wipe frosting and tears from my eyes and crawl my way over to the shaking shell that used to be Peeta on the floor. I gently lay a hand on his back.

"Peeta?" I ask cautiously, "Peeta?"

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	5. Chapter 5

**This is my favorite chapter to write so far. It took me quite a bit of time, because I wanted to get it just right. I didn't want to rush it, but I wanted to make it a little happier than the others. Oh, alright... I admit it. I also waited a little bit to post it because I wanted to keep you guys sitting on the edge of your seats. :) Haha just kidding, I love you all and I'm not _that _mean! Before you read, I want to say thank you for all of your wonderful reviews, and keep 'em coming! More reviews=A happier author, which equals more updates!**

**Disclaimer: If all my wishes came true I would own this story and it's rights, but they don't and therefore I own zip. **

Peeta gives me no response. He just continues to sob and shake on the floor.

"Peeta stop!" I say this again in a desperate attempt to get him to calm down. "You're okay. We're all okay." Nothing could be further from the truth, but I don't think telling him that would be of much help right now.

I turn to Haymitch, my eyes pleading for an answer as to what to do. I see only my own helplessness mirrored back at me on his face.

After staring at Peeta's shaking form for a minute or two, I decide to just wait him out. I slowly and gently run my fingers through his hair, smoothing it back from his forehead. I remember him doing this same thing to me that day in our cave, and if it soothed me then, why shouldn't it sooth him now?

I continue to run my fingers through his soft, curly, blonde hair and watch as Haymitch gets up and leaves the room. He's back a second later, holding a wet dish towel. He kneels by the shattered remains of the coffee table and tries to mop up the mix of frosting, wine, and Peeta's blood that is soaking my carpet.

I listen to the steady sounds of the towel being dragged back and forth across the floor and continue to stroke Peeta's hair. His cries continue and I feel helpless. I'm no good at this. I've never been good at soothing people, even Prim. When she would cry as a baby I would always send her to one of our parents and be on my way. I can't do that now. All I can do is stroke his hair and wait. A part of me wishes I could curl up in a ball on the floor and cry right along with him.

Haymitch finishes cleaning the carpet and puts some type of cleaning powder on the stains.

"Got it from under your sink," he mumbles. I give him a nod. Peeta's cries continue and I wonder if he'll ever stop. Doesn't seem like it. I sigh inwardly and continue smoothing back his hair. I close my eyes.

Twenty-two strokes later his cries abate a little. I turn to look hopefully at Haymitch, but he isn't there. Loud footsteps coming from upstairs tell me where he is. I decide to try to talk to Peeta, whose sobs have now stopped completely. His violent shaking continues, but then it stops too.

"Peeta?" I ask anxiously, "Peeta can you hear me?"

This time I am rewarded with a soft groan instead of silence. My fingers continue to caress his hair and my knees begin to ache from kneeling for so long. I shift my position a little until I am sitting cross-legged directly in front of Peeta's head.

"Peeta, please answer me!" I beg. Slowly he turns over to face the ceiling and opens his eyes. They're extremely bloodshot, but back to their natural blue color. I'm so relieved to see them I actually pull his head into my lap. My gentle stroking continues as he keeps staring at the ceiling.

"I hear you Katniss," he says tiredly. His voice is hoarse and quiet. "I hear you."

"What just happened?" I ask. "Why were you crying so much? You didn't cry like that in the Capitol." The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them, and I immediately wish I could take them back. That I could snatch them out of the air and shove them back in my mind before he hears. How stupid am I, that I would mention the freaking Capitol to a boy who just suffered from the most terrifying episode I've ever seen him have? Beyond stupid, that's what I am.

Peeta's face contorts when he hears the name, and I feverishly hope it doesn't throw him into another episode. Luckily, it seems like it doesn't. He takes a great shuddering breath and looks me straight in the eyes.

"I don't know, Katniss... I don't know. Every episode is different and it seems like they just keep getting worse. They're not happening as often, but they're getting worse. Usually I'm able to handle it, but... this one was _different_, you know? It was more intense... more believable." He closes his eyes again but keeps talking. "I'm just so _tired_. All the time, every day. I've started to hurt myself on purpose again just so I can try to hang on to reality. Obviously that's not working. I mean, look at my wrists!" He raises his arms in the air but keeps his head in my lap. I try not to gawk at the bright red lines on his wrists, caused not by a blade but his own fingernails. "They bleed almost every night," he continues, "Every night. I guess I do most of it in my sleep where the nightmares are the worst. When I start to see those shiny images in my head... I panic. I can't tell what's real and what's not anymore. I can start a day as normal as I can possibly get right now, and yet everything can change in an instant. One minute I'm happy in your living room, and the next I'm crying on the floor. Like a _baby_. I'm so sorry you had to see this, Katniss. I'm sorry you had to hear it. Please tell me I didn't try to hurt you, too."

I look down into his tortured face and I know I can't tell him the truth. Tears fall freely from my eyes, and I sniff. "No, Peeta... You didn't hurt me. Not one bit."

He gives me a long look then sits up. He matches my cross-legged position and faces me, his head mere inches from mine. "You're a terrible liar, Katniss. You always have been." his hand reaches up and before I know it, he is stroking my face. Wiping away my tears. To my surprise, I let him. For the first time since Prim died, I don't feel like shutting him out. Unlike everybody else in my life, I actually feel like letting him in. I search my heart and realize that's the wrong word. I don't _feel_ like letting him in, I _want _to. I really and truly do. For some strange reason I feel warm. I haven't really felt many different emotions in a long time, and all of the ones I'm feeling right now are new and kind of overwhelming. Not the bad kind of overwhelming, the kind that sneaks up on you in the dead of night and threatens to choke you while you sleep. Not that kind at all. This kind of overwhelming makes me see things differently. It slows things down, opens my eyes and lets me see everything around me in perfect clarity. Instead of the darkness I've been carrying around inside my chest for so long, I feel something else. Not a fire necessarily, nothing as bright as that. Not yet. No, I don't feel a fire, I feel a spark.

So I smile through my tears and ignore the pain from the muscles around my mouth. I ignore the muscles that are trying to pull the corners of my lips down, and I encourage the ones that are pulling them up. I smile at Peeta and his answering smile is so dazzling and real I can't help it anymore. I press my forehead against his and close my eyes. I breath in his scent and wonder at how just this morning, I didn't want him here. I wonder at how I thought he was healing faster than I was, and I wonder at the jealousy I felt towards him. All these things flash through my mind and I open my eyes once more. My grey meets his blue and I'm not surprised to see that he's crying with me. I place my hand on his warm cheek and whisper words which I thought I would never say again.

"Stay with me." My words are quiet and unclear but he hears them. He hears them, and he responds.

"Always."

My smile comes effortlessly as I stare into his eyes. When our lips meet, there is no more need for words.

**P.S.: I love you too, 'Thgluver', and that did make me smile! I'm so happy you love my story so much!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. **

We break apart but keep our foreheads pressed together. I open my eyes and see that Peeta is looking at me.

"I've missed you," he whispers softly.

"I've missed you too," I whisper back.

"Do you really mean that?" he asks.

Do I? I have to think. I don't remember much about the past couple months. Just a dark haze of uncertainty that it seems I am just waking up from. I remember months and months of anguish and pain, sorrow and suffering. I look deep into Peeta's light blue eyes and I know my answer.

"Yes," I breathe, "Yes."

This time it's Peeta who leans in. Before our lips can touch, loud thumping sounds issue from the staircase. Haymitch, coming down to see if Peeta's alright. Peeta quickly moves to sit on the couch. He has just pulled me up to sit by him when the door opens and Haymitch stomps in. He slumps in the chair and doesn't say anything for a while.

"You okay?" he finally asks Peeta.

"Yeah," says Peeta, "I'm fine."

"Sure you are," Haymitch snorts as he rises from his chair. "I'm leaving. Call me if anything... happens, again. Got it?" he gives me a look then heads towards the door. "Can you walk me home, Katniss?" he smirks at my expression. "Come on, help an old man out." He waves me forward with his hand and then heads out the door. I look at Peeta.

"Why does he want me to walk him home?"

He merely shrugs. "He probably wants to talk in private about what just happened. You should go."

"What about you? Will you be okay?" Who knows what he could do to himself when I'm gone.

He smiles and pushes me off the couch. "Go. I'll be okay. I _am _by myself most of the time, you know."

I smile back and cross over to the door. "Don't move until I get back," I order, laying my hand on the doorknob.

He rolls his eyes at me. "_Go_, Katniss. I'll be fine."

I open the door and find Haymitch sitting on the bottom porch step. He stands up when I come out, and together we walk in silence to his front door. He crosses his arms in front of it and gives me a long, hard look.

"What?" I say defensively.

"Earlier you asked me why I came over tonight. Now you know," he says.

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"I mean that the only reason I came to your house tonight was because of what just happened in that living room thirty minutes ago."

"You knew that was going to happen?"

"To an extent," he says, "I mean come _on, _Katniss. Did you really think your little party was going to end well tonight?"

"Well I wasn't expecting some fabulous reunion scene between the three of us, if that's what you mean, Haymitch," I say sarcastically, "But no, I wasn't expecting _that. _I thought he was done with having episodes."

Haymitch pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "You thought he was done having episodes? You really did?" His tone is a bit too sincere for my liking.

"Yes..." I say slowly, wondering where he's going with this.

"Tell me sweetheart, do you sleep with your windows open?"

"Haymitch, what the hell are you talking about? What does that have to do with anything?"

"Do you sleep with your windows open?" he repeats.

"No," I say stonily.

"Of course you don't. Because if you did, you would know that the boy has an episode almost every fucking night."

"What? How do you know?" I feel like Haymitch is trying to lead me somewhere with this conversation, and I'm not sure I want to go.

"I know because I sleep with my windows open, Katniss," he seethes, "I know because every night I wake up to the sound of him sobbing. Usually he's screaming his families' names. Sometimes mine. Sometimes yours. Every night he does this, and every god damn night I go to his house and calm him down. You're probably wondering why I went upstairs tonight. I went because I've had enough. I'm tired of this cycle."

"What are you trying to say Haymitch?" I ask.

"What I'm trying to say Katniss, is this... it's time for you to sleep with your windows open. You calmed him down tonight faster than I ever have. The Peeta that's sitting on your couch right now is ten times better than the Peeta I bring out. You do something to him, Katniss. I don't know what it is, but it's something. He needs you. Badly." Haymitch unfolds his arms and I sense he's had his say. I take a deep breath.

"But Haymitch, that doesn't make sense. He told me earlier that he hasn't seen you before today since he got back. How can that be if you go to his house every night?"

"Use your brain if you have one. Did he seem like he knew exactly what was going on after he stopped crying earlier?"

"Oh," I say, then ask him a question that's been preying on me for a while now, "So what should I do?"

Haymitch chuckles darkly. "Hell if I know, sweetheart. Do what you want, just know that he needs you, and from the looks of it, you need him."

That last bit throws me off guard. "What do you mean, 'I need him'?"

"Isn't it obvious Katniss? You've always needed him, especially now. Everyone's seen how you two are around each other since the Victory Tour. Have you forgotten the way you acted when he was taken by the Capitol? You almost killed me with your bare hands, for Christ's sake! I'm going to bed, so take this last piece of advice: you two need to help each other out. I'm not saying you have to love him, I'm not saying you even have to be friends. Just don't turn your back on him, Katniss. You two can help each other heal faster and better than you could by yourselves. Now get out of here. Go back home."

He closes the door on my still shocked face.


	7. Chapter 7

**Thank you all for the great reviews! Keep reading and reviewing!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

I head back to my house with a sad mind. I open my door and find Peeta on my couch, exactly where I left him. He smiles when he sees me and scoots over to make room next to him. I sit, and take his hand as I do so. We sit quietly for a moment, and then Peeta breaks the silence.

"That should have been our first kiss."

I smile and lean into him. I feel him rest his chin on my hair. "Yeah," I say, "It should've."

I speak again. "What's it been like?" I ask, "For you?"

"What do you mean?" he asks.

"What has it been like for you since you got back?" I say.

"You don't want to hear that, Katniss." his voice sounds sad and tired.

"Yes," I say, "I do,"

Peeta sighs, and I can feel his breath ruffle my hair. "Are you sure? What do you want to know about?"

"I'm sure," I reply," Let's start with something easy. What do you do during the day?"

"I don't know, I try to... cope, I guess. Every day is different. Some are better than others. On the good days, I paint. Or bake. I just try to pass the time and try to get myself tired so I can sleep better." He pauses for a second.

"Do you still have nightmares?" I ask. As if I don't already know.

"Of course I do," he answers incredulously, "Don't you?"

"Yeah," I say, "Every night."

We're both quiet for a moment. "So what do you do on the bad days?" I ask.

He sighs again and I squeeze his hand. I know this is hard. "I don't know, I do different things. Some days I don't get out of bed. I just kind of lay there and try not to give in to my episodes. Those days are the worst. On the days that are better than those but are still bad, I try to get on with my life. Sometimes I call Dr. Aurelius. He doesn't really help much, but it's nice to hear another person's voice. He tells me to do this thing where I state my name, then keep saying facts to help remember what's real or not." He buries his face in my hair.

"I do that too," I say, to give him a chance to compose himself. "I've been doing that since you were... taken."

"You've had to do it for that long?" he asks.

"Yeah," I say, "Things weren't very... easy when you were gone. I was depressed all the time. I would have hallucinations and I hid in cupboards and things. I avoided people and Thirteen classified me as 'Mentally Disoriented'." I scoff a little, "They even gave me a bracelet. I got a little better when they showed your first... piece on tv. You see, I thought you were dead. Or worse. When I saw you on that stage, looking all strong and healthy, I felt better. More... whole, I guess. I started to smile more. I didn't smile before then. Then I saw your second piece. You looked much worse. You had lost a lot of weight and your eyes... they looked haunted. Like you'd seen some things that were even worse than the arenas. I couldn't comprehend how you could change so dramatically in such little time." I have to pause for a second because I don't want to say anymore. I haven't told anyone about how I felt during that time and I was never planning to. I feel like I should say this though, so I keep talking. "After a while I stopped trying to think of you. I tried to become their stupid Mockingjay. Like they all wanted. I thought if I did it, they would let me go to the Capitol and I could kill Snow. I wanted to hurt him like he hurt you. I remember I would carry our pearl everywhere. I would pretend it was your life and nobody could take it if I kept it safe. With me. I blamed myself for your torture. I knew I should have stayed with you that day by the lightning tree. I kept fighting, though, and I tried to help the rebels. Usually I just made things worse. I became even more depressed than usual. I used to think that if I just knew you were dead, I could run away. I would never have to come back. But I didn't know anything about your situation. I was stuck. Then you warned us about the bombs and we were all kept underground for days. By that point I was done. I couldn't stop thinking about you and I finally broke down and told Prim what was wrong with me. I remember I kept getting pains in my chest and I think I had a mini heart attack. I asked Prim why they took you. We didn't know anything about the rebellion and we were useless as far as rebel secrets went. She changed my perspective and told me what she thought. When I asked her what they would do to you, she answered: 'Whatever it takes to break you'. I knew she was right. I quickly realized that Snow was planning this all along. That first day on the Victory Tour, when he told me to prove to everyone that I loved you, he wanted to see if I could. He wanted to see if taking you was enough to disable me and make me useless to the rebels. I realized this, and the very next day I had a mental breakdown. I cried during the filming of a propo and told everyone I couldn't do it anymore. Everything I was saying was going to be taken out on you. I became hysterical and I had to be knocked out. When I woke up, they told me that a rescue mission was taking place to get you and the others out of the Capitol. I wanted to go, but I was too late. They told me I could make a propo about you if I wanted, and I said yes. I was desperate to help. So Cressida filmed me talking about you for a bit, and I had to wait for the rest of the day for you to get back. I was very impatient. I ran to your room when I heard you were safe, and well... you know the rest." I take a deep breath. I had no idea I was crying until Peeta wiped away my tears.

"I had no idea about any of that," he says softly.

"I know," I say, mopping my eyes with my sleeve, "Now you do."

We're both quiet for a bit. I make a halfhearted attempt at a smile. "I haven't told anyone about how I felt back then," I say, the pathetic smile dropping from my lips. "I haven't even talked this much in a long time."

"You did the right thing," says Peeta, "It's not good to hold things back." He gives my hand a squeeze then stands up. "It's late. You should probably go to sleep. I have to go home now."

"Please, stay," I say, desperately, "You can sleep in my mother's room."

He shakes his head. "I'm sorry Katniss. I have to go." He opens the door and gives me a sad look. "And, Katniss?" he says, "Don't you _ever _blame yourself for what happens to me, okay?" He's gone before I can answer.

I slowly make my way upstairs and get ready for bed. I'm so drained I just strip off my clothes and lay down in my underwear. I flip off the light and close my eyes. Right before I drift off to sleep, I get up and open my window. I go back to my bed and lie down. Warm tendrils of air fly in my room and caress my uncovered face. Their warm fingers soothe me into unconsciousness.


	8. Chapter 8

**Sorry for the wait guys! I've been really busy with school and my brother is teaching me how to drive afterwards. I can't believe I'll be old enough to have my permit in just three months! Ahhhh! Anyways, please read, enjoy, and REVIEW! I'm not fleeting nearly enough reviews (like only one every two days), and so I have no idea what you guys are thinking! :)**

**Disclaimer: The Hunger Games series is not mine. **

_Candy colored buildings surround me no matter which way I look. Gunshots echo in the distance, harmonizing with the screams of the dying. I want to join the cacophony. I want to scream, cry, and curse the evil person who put us on this planet of the damned. But I don't. Silence is essential if I want to remain undetected on my way to the mansion. That's my one goal left in life. To get to the mansion, kill Snow, and face a probable death by some unknown force soon afterwords. My last wish. _I kill Snow_. I make good progress to the city's heart, stopping only once when I thought I heard small footsteps behind me. I must have been mistaken, for how can I hear a sound as delicate as footsteps in this maelstrom of screams, wails, pain, and death? Gunfire falls like rain where I stand, and all of a sudden my world shifts. I'm trekking through a humid jungle. Little droplets of fog land on my reaping dress, and I brush them off impatiently. Snow is here somewhere, I know it in my heart. I have little time for distractions such as these droplets. My fingers burn where the poisoned air has made contact with my skin. I begin to run through the greenery, trying desperately to avoid the moist cloud of pain. Someone behind me keeps pace, always a few steps behind. They don't seem as threatening as the fog, so I don't look back. I run so fast I trip and fall into a pit of flaming orange ants. They bore holes into my eyes and crawl in my ears. I stand up quickly, trying to shake them off. I find myself in a cold forest. It is the middle of the night and I hear dogs howling after me. I sprint towards the area where I know the Cornucopia will be. I race to the bottom of the golden horn. Someone gives me a boost and I pull whoever it was up after me, just as the mutts reach us. I look at the person who followed me all this way._

_"Prim, what are you doing here?!" I cry, pushing her behind me and out of the reach of the mutts. "I volunteered for you! You were never supposed to get hurt! We had a deal!"_

_She gently takes my hands and looks me in the eyes. "Plans have changed Katniss. I've come to help you." She lets go of my hands and turns away from me. "I'm ready," she says, tilting her chin to the sky and extending her arms. She stands poised on her toes, like a bird about to take flight. "Katniss, get ready to run."_

_I stand transfixed by her small figure, and for a moment forget about the evil dogs howling at me from below. I wonder what on earth she's doing when Cato suddenly charges forward and pushes her off the Cornucopia and onto the ground. I scream her name and rush to the edge, peering into the night. Her screams fill the air and I get shoved after her onto the ground. I twist in midair and look my killer in the face. Cato sneers at me and claws at his neck. I'm captured by a mutt, and right before it takes me out I see that what I thought was Cato was actually President Snow, pulling off a mask. He winks at me as the mutt takes it's death bite._

"Prim!" I scream, sitting bolt upright in horror. I kick my feet out in an attempt to break free from the mutts grasp. I struggle in terror, trying desperately to reach my sister. "Prim! Stay there! I'm coming!" I scream some more. I finally get my feet free from the stinking creature, and I wait for some sort of retaliation. I brace myself, but it doesn't come. I free my arms as well, and then the truth of where I am drops on my like a ton of bricks. I'm not in the arena. I'm tangled up in my bed sheets. Alone. Without my baby sister. The pain that hits me is so intense, I can't breathe for almost a whole minute. When I finally do, my chest aches and I can barely see through my tears. I'm choking in grief and I scream out in frustration. "Prim!" I cry out, even though I know she can't hear me. She never will. My sobs have run together into some sort of unearthly wail, and I double up in pain. I fall off my bed and I curl up in the fetal position on the floor. I become violent, kicking and screaming out at ghosts that have come back to haunt me from the past.

"Go away!" I yell at them. "Go away and never come back! Just leave me alone!" My tears flow in my mouth, slurring my words. "Please..." I beg, "Please just go away. Please..." I shut my eyes and rock back and forth on the floor.

_My name is Katniss Everdeen. _

_I am eighteen years old. _

_I live in the remains of District Twelve. _

_My sister is dead. _

_It's all my fault. _

_I can't do this anymore._

_I wish I was dead._

_Why am I not dead?_

_I should be dead. _

I can feel myself slowly losing consciousness. I hear loud footsteps outside and someone yelling my name. I'm sure it's some form of mutt, coming to take my life. '_Please, come take me,_' I think. _'Please. I'm right here...'_ My sobs cross over into some line of hysteria, and I pass out on the floor.

The sound of rain pattering across the rooftop brings me back towards consciousness. I sit up slowly, and an ice pack slides off my head and onto the floor. I vaguely register that I didn't go to sleep with one on. I look around and am surprised to see I'm in my living room. A fire is burning in the hearth and I'm wrapped up in a bed sheet and some blankets. Someone moves behind me, and I quickly turn my head to see Peeta getting up from the chair. That's odd. I thought he left last night. He walks towards me quickly, concern written all over his face.

"Katniss?" he says slowly, "Katniss can you hear me? It's me, Peeta."

Well of course it's him, who else would it be? I'm somewhat irritated and it shows in my tone. "What are you doing here?" I ask, my voice hoarse and impatient.

"You were having a nightmare last night and I could hear you all the way from my house. You were smashing things so I came to see if you were okay. It's a good thing I did, because when I got to your room your head was bleeding and you were passed out on the floor." He pauses. "Well, you weren't really unconscious, you were more... delirious. You were saying... things. "

I take this all in and ask a question I'm not sure I want to know the answer to. "What was I saying?"

"It's not important," he begins, but one look at my face tells him I'm not going to accept that. He sighs tiredly and rubs a hand over his face. "You were begging me to... kill you." He rubs his face again and stares at the fire, avoiding my eyes.

"Oh," is all I say. I pick up the ice pack and set it back on my aching head. I lean back in the couch and close my eyes. "Thanks for helping me," I say.

"No problem, Katniss." His voice sounds sad and I turn to face him. He's standing at the door, one hand on the knob. "There's fresh bread and some stew in the kitchen. I have to go now."

He's halfway through the door when I jump up and tug him back in. I shut the door behind me. "Why are you leaving?" I ask. "Please, stay."

He looks down at me, blushes, and stares pointedly at the ceiling. I can hear a chuckle in his voice. "Go get your sheet back on Katniss."

I look down at myself and realize I'm still in my undergarments. I blush and rush quickly back to the couch, wrapping myself in the sheet. Peeta looks at me now. "I have to go because the painting I was working on when I heard you is about to dry, and I want to put some finishing touches on before it does."

"Can I please come with you?" I beg. "I don't want to be here alone."

Peeta looks at my face and shakes his head. "Maybe you should take it easy, Katniss. Your head is still bleeding and I don't want you to strain yourself. Just lie back down, and I'll be back before you know it, okay?"

I can't stand the thought of being alone another minute. "Please," I say desperately.

Peeta sighs again and nods. "Just... keep in mind that you might not want to see some of the paintings, okay?"

"Okay," I say. "Let me go get dressed. I'll be right back."

Five minutes later Peeta takes my hand and leads me out the door.


	9. Chapter 9

**Yay! It's update time again! Thank you to all those people who reviewed, followed, and favorited my story today. I love your feedback and I eat your reviews up like candy. So please, give me more! :) **

**Disclaimer: I really wish I owned the Hunger Games series, but I don't and that sucks. **

The morning air is cool on my face and gives me the chills. My thin t-shirt and pants do little to help me keep warm. I hold tighter to Peeta's hand, trying to absorb as much heat as I can possibly get. He opens the door to his house and I step in it for the first time in almost a year. Everything looks the same, but it feels much different. The house has a certain coldness about it, as if it's been unused for a long time. The smell of baking bread, which used to hang in the air so often, is gone. This change startles me, for if you know Peeta, you know that the smell of bread always clings to him like a shadow. He can't go anywhere without it. It's a simple change, but it nettles me.

"Peeta?" I ask, "You said that you still sometimes bake bread here. How come it doesn't smell like bread in here anymore?"

Peeta looks down at me and gives a small smile that quickly leaves his lips. "I only bake on the good days, Katniss. I haven't had one of those in a long time."

"But you still paint?" I say, feeling as though I'm missing something important.

"I can paint on the bad days as well as the good," he says, leading me up the stairs and to the front of a spare bedroom. "Painting always seems to calm me down after an episode or nightmare. Sometimes I think that if I can bring my fears to life on canvas, I can put a name to them and not be as afraid." He stands in front of the door and folds his arms. "Are you sure you want to see? I'm telling you right now they aren't pretty."

I remember his paintings from the Victory Tour and swallow, steeling myself. "I want to see."

He sighs and holds the door open. "Come on in, then."

I step past him into the room and immediately have to resist the urge to walk right back out. I have entered a room of horror where fear dwells and nightmares wait to trap you. I wasn't sure what I was expecting the paintings to be like, maybe a little bit scarier than the ones on the Victory Tour, but not by this much. I wasn't expecting _this_. Vomit rises in the back of my throat as I stare at the twisted world around me. Immediately to the left of the door is an image so terrifying I want to cry just looking at it. It's a picture of Peeta lying naked on a cold metal table, surrounded by brutal looking men who are injecting copious amounts of liquid into his veins. Peeta is being held down by four thick metal bands that lock in place around his ankles, hips, torso, and neck. Blood is pouring out of his mouth, nose, ears, and even his eyes as he screams in terror at a video above the table he is being forced to watch. I'm not surprised to see that the video is of me, apparently cutting up his family with a knife, an expression of utter glee on my face.

I turn away from the vile painting and look to the one on my right. This one is done sloppier than the one on the left, the lines blurred and random splatters of paint decorating the canvas over the main image. This one depicts (if possible) a scene even more terrifying than the other one. This painting shows a picture of me plunging a knife into my own stomach, blood streaming out of me and into the faces of the dead bodies I'm standing on. Mounds and mounds of people rest under my feet, my blood mixing with theirs and filling up their mouths and noses. A disproportionate amount of blood streams from me down to the very bottom of the pile, which reaches about fifty feet wide and one hundred feet high. Worst of all, a lone man is standing on the ground far below me, looking up at me while smiling a sadistic smile and stroking a pet snake. President Snow is wearing a crisp white suit with a blood red rose tucked neatly in his lapel. The rose matches several more that are wreathed in my hair. My eyes travel back up from Snow to the thousands of dead beneath my feet. I recognize many of the blank faces, despite the crude brushwork. A lot of these people were from District Twelve. I see my mother, Prim, Gale, Peeta's family, some merchant kids from school, and even little Rue resting under my shoes. I don't see Peeta anywhere until I look back up at myself on top. Peeta is the dead body under my feet, supporting my weight and staring at me from the canvas with a look of pure horror frozen on his face.

I finally tear my eyes away from the painting and look wildly around the room. Every picture is worse than the last and I don't recognize any from the Victory Tour. My breath catches in my throat and I run from the room into the closest bathroom. I brush past Peeta on my quest out. He was leaning against the doorframe this whole time, watching my reactions to the paintings. I slam the bathroom door open, and before I know it, I'm vomiting violently into the toilet. Thank goodness all the floor plans for Victor's Village are exactly the same, and so I was able to find my way to the toilet just in time. My retching continues and I feel Peeta cross the bathroom floor and kneel behind me, sweeping my hair back from my face with one hand and rubbing my back with the other. He whispers soothing words to me as I purge my stomach of everything I've ever eaten in the last year. When I'm finally done I flush the toilet and collapse on the floor, shaking and covering my eyes.

"Do you really dream all of that?" I ask the floor, still shaking like a leaf.

"Not all of it," Peeta says, continuing to rub small circles into my back. "I've got it organized so all the paintings on the left are real memories I have, and all the paintings on the right are nightmares and memories that I know are fake. Whenever I have a reoccurring nightmare and I'm not sure if its real or not, I go in that room and see what side it's painting is on. Ususally I've already painted the nightmare out and I always add new ones to the collection." He pauses for a moment, and the circles stop. "I'm so sorry Katniss," he says, "I should have never shown you those. This is all my fault." His voice breaks as he pulls away from me and sits back on the floor. I feel so weak and helpless I slowly get up and crawl my way over to his lap. I sit there, ensconced in his warmth, and bury my head in his chest. His arms wrap around me and I can feel my tears soaking the front of his shirt. We're both quiet for a very long time.

"Don't be sad," I finally say. "I'm the one who made you bring me here. None of this is your fault. Got it?" I can feel him nod against the top of my head as his arms draw tighter around me. "So," I say conversationally, "I guess I know what your episodes are like now. I know how you can see me sometimes."

"Yeah," he whispers, "I guess you do."

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	10. Chapter 10

**Hey guys! Sorry about the wait, I've come down with the flu and I'm only just now feeling well enough to update. I'm blown away by how much you all love my story! I can't believe it! 'MarceEscoto', your review made my day! Thank you so much! I'd like to thank the rest of the thirty-ish or so people who've already taken the time to press the pesky little review button at the bottom. So... Thank you! Well, in with the show! As promised, I give you (drumroll, please): The tenth installment of 'Recovering Hope'. Let's see if we can get up to 50 reviews for this chapter, just to show those other fanfic stories who's boss! (And because I absolutely LOVE reviews) :)**

**Disclaimer: Nope, The Hunger Games series isn't mine. **

I continue to sit in Peeta's lap on his bathroom floor. His hand lightly strokes my hair. We haven't sat like this in such a long time. I don't even remember the last time I was so comfortable. Memories come flooding back to me, memories of strong arms, restful nights, and kisses that actually meant something. There was a time when these arms were my sanity, one of my only sanctuaries in a world of suffering and sorrow. I think back to the day I first took notice of their owner. I was eleven years old then, and half dead. Starvation had almost kept me from going home that day. And what was I to return to? A mother who abandoned me, a frail little sister, and bad memories were all that awaited me there. I remember I had just given up hope when a boy I vaguely recognized caught my eye. Or rather, I caught his. He was taking beatings to save me even back then. And while my sacrifices for him didn't start that young, I definitely have taken abuse for him too. Words from the past float up from my mind._ "Because that's what you and I do, protect each other."_

Almost everything has changed in the nearly seven years I've spent thinking about Peeta. Really, only one thing remains the same in our odd, twisted, dysfunctional relationship. And those ten words say it all. We've always looked out for each other. Always have, always will. As my inspiration grows, so does my determination. I will not keep living my life this way. I can't. I need Peeta and he needs me. This is clear to me now. Why has it taken me this long to realize it? It's always been this way, and I refuse to live my life another minute without telling Peeta how I feel. Sitting here in his lap, I somehow find the security and courage I've needed for so long. I pull away from his chest and look him in the eyes. I take a deep breath.

"Peeta," I begin. "I'm about to tell you something, and I want you to know that I mean this from the bottom of my heart." I grip his hands tightly. "I really need you to focus, okay? This isn't some lie created by the Capitol, and I promise I'm not trying to hurt you."

Peeta looks down at me through his long blonde lashes. "Okay," he whispers.

I continue, feeling more vulnerable than I thought possible. His hands, always so big, pull away from mine and gently stroke my face. This relaxes me and I close my eyes. "I need you, Peeta. I always have. I didn't think I knew it until now, but I feel that maybe deep down inside, I've known this all along. You and I have been through so much together, and at times I can honestly say that I didn't know where we stood. There were times when I thought you hated me, and there were times when I thought I hated you. But I never really did. It's just that I've been living my whole life with this... fear inside me. I've always been afraid to care about something because I know how easy it is to lose everything. Every thought I had before I met you was always influenced by one question: 'Will this help me survive?'. If the answer was no, I would move on and never look back. But then you came in my life, and everything changed. I started looking back." Tears prick at my eyes and I brush them away impatiently. "I had put up walls my whole life to keep people out. I had no desire to ever fall in love. I guess you had other ideas though. You tore down those walls in a heartbeat. You proved time and time again that you loved me, and I just pushed you aside. I had no idea how to react to anything other than threats to my safety, and the way you made me feel scared me. I'm so sorry Peeta. Everything bad in your life is my fault and I'm sorry you have to come save me from everything. I once told you that you and I protect each other. I guess only half of it is true. You've been protecting me since I was a little girl and I only rarely return the favor. I'm sorry I came into your life and screwed everything up. You'd be crazy to ever love me again, and I would completely understand if you threw me out of your house right now and never talked to me again." I take a deep breath and steady myself. _Get to the point, Katniss. This could be the last time you ever talk to him again. _"I guess what I'm really trying to say, Peeta, is that I'm sorry we couldn't love each other at the same time."_  
_

I look sadly into Peeta's eyes as his hands slide off my face. I get up quickly and head towards the front door. "I'll be leaving now," I whisper. As I pound down the stairs I can't help the tears that escape. They flow freely as I cross to the foyer and try to wrench the door open. I push and pull on the knob before I realize it's locked. My fingers have just reached the deadbolt when I hear his voice at the top of the stairs.

"Katniss stop!" I freeze in my tracks and spin around. Peeta is standing at the top of the stairs, watching my every move. His hands are resting casually on the railing. "You love me, real or not real?" he asks in a soft voice.

His question hangs in the air for a moment before I answer. I take yet another deep breath and swallow all of my dignity. I tell him, "Real".

I close my eyes before I can see the disgust that I know will play across his face. I'm surprised when I hear the sound of running. My eyes fly open just in time to see Peeta sprinting down the stairs, going so fast I'm shocked he reaches the bottom without falling on his face. He doesn't stop at the ground floor though, and runs right into me. He picks me up in his arms and spins me into the living room, where we collapse on the couch. I'm still trapped in his embrace when he leans his head down to mine and whispers in my ear. "Took you long enough," he says. His next words are a whisper. "I love you too."

My tear-stained face manages to form a smile before he leans in and kisses me. This is by far the most passionate kiss we've ever shared. It's a mix of tears, hope and love and it leaves me breathless. We pull apart and I look in his eyes. "You still love me? Even after all we've been through?"

Peeta leans in and kisses me again. I've never seen him this happy. Come to think of it, I don't think I've ever been this happy, either. The feeling is strange and I can barely remember what it feels like. Peeta keeps talking. "I've never stopped loving you," he says, "Never. Even when I was hijacked I still loved you. At least, the sane part of me did. I know it doesn't seem like it, but it's true. I've loved you every day since I was five years old, Katniss. There's no way any amount of poison could make me forget that." He smiles as I launch forward and give him a hug. I hold him tight and whisper in his ear.

"Today has been a strange day."

I feel his laugh rumble in his chest when he answers. "No," he says. "It's been a good one."

**Well, there you have it folks. Things are finally getting better for Katniss and Peeta. I know this ending was kind of bad, and I promise the next ones will be better. As always, read and review**!


	11. Chapter 11

**Woohoo! It's update time! Thank you all for the AWESOME reviews- You guys made me blush :D. Now, onto the show, and as always, please read and review!**

**Disclaimer: You would know the Hunger series was mine because I would write myself in the book married to Peeta. And is that the case? I think not! *sad tears falling down face***

I wake up in a warm room, and for a moment I forget where I am. It's still pitch black in here and the digital clock says it's two in the morning. I take in more of my surroundings. This bed isn't mine. These blankets aren't mine. What is going on? I stir a little in my half-conscious state and try to sit up. A heavy arm that doesn't belong to me pins me to a large, comfortable chest. Peeta. How could I have forgotten about him? Yesterday was such a blur, a roller coaster of emotions and feelings that wiped me out with their foreign ways. Only one memory is easy to recall. It was the argument I'd had with Peeta about whether or not I was spending the night.

"It's too dangerous, Katniss," he had said, shaking his head sadly at me. "What if I had an episode? I can't risk hurting you. Not again."

I can remember all too clearly the waves of rejection, hurt, and anger these words brought me. The fact that I knew they were true only made me even more frustrated. "That's exactly why I want to stay," I had pleaded. "I need to be here so I can help you. Like yesterday."

"Yesterday was a fluke," he had countered. "And if Haymitch hadn't been there I could have seriously hurt you."

"So what?" I continued, determined to get my way. "I calmed you down, didn't I? I made you feel better, and I can do it again. Besides, what about me? I need some help, too."

Even hours later, I can still clearly remember the look of pain on his face. "Please, Katniss," he had begged, "Help me out here. I promise I'll be at your house first thing in the morning."

By that point I was done with playing fair. I stood up on my tiptoes and took Peeta's face in both hands. I brought his head down to rest against mine and smiled inwardly when I felt his arms wrap automatically around me. He's so easy to predict. "Please," I had whispered, "Let me stay." He had barely managed to mutter a halfhearted 'no' before I kissed him. "It'll be okay," I reassured him when I pulled away.

Peeta heaved a great sigh before he agreed. "Fine," he relented. "You can stay. But I'm telling you now- if _anything _happens, you have to leave right away. Go home and I promise I'll call you when it's over. Alright?" His blue eyes held a pleading but determined look. He was serious.

"Alright," I promised. I was lying through my teeth, of course, but luckily I don't think Peeta noticed. I wasn't surprised. I have been a master in the art of deception since my days spent in District Thirteen. Peeta took me by the hand and led me up to his room, where he gave me a toothbrush and a pair of his pajamas. I changed in the bathroom after he brushed his teeth. I wasn't surprised to see his clothes could have easily held two of me. I caught a glance of myself in the mirror (something I usually strive to _not _do), and was momentarily shocked at what I saw. The girl looking back at me was practically a stranger. Her face was flushed, and her eyes shone brightly. Despite the oversized clothes, you could tell she was standing up straight and tall, unlike my usual slouch. A ghost of a smile played on her lips, and her hair was falling in waves down her back, rather than in a tangled mat at the top of her head. I guess the real reason I couldn't reconcile this reflection with myself was because of the glow of vitality around her. My usual dead expression was replaced by an expression of happiness, love, and hope all rolled into one. It was... unsettling. I couldn't understand how I could possibly feel an absurdity such as _happiness _when I had so many other things weighing me down. Like the death of my sister, my district, and so many other nameless people.

I stared at my reflection for a full minute, just looking for a reason as to why I could feel this way. Why wasn't I crying? Why wasn't I laying in my sister's bed, staring at the ceiling for hours on end, absorbed in my thoughts? I looked and looked at myself, searching desperately for an answer. None came, and as soon as I opened the bathroom door, I realized the answer didn't lie in the mirror. It was currently lying in his bed, laughing at the sight of me dwarfed in his clothes. The answer was Peeta.

"I should have known those were too big," he smirked. "They make you look like a midget."

"Shut up," I laughed, crawling under the covers next to him. Things were a little awkward at first, neither of us knowing if the other person wanted personal space or not. We started facing away from each other on opposite sides of the bed. Within minutes we had found each others hands under the blankets, and moments later he was lying on his back, and I was lying by his side with my head on his chest. Our hands clung to each other, and I quickly fell asleep.

Now I'm wide awake, marveling at the fact I slept without having a nightmare for the first time in almost a year. Instead I had an odd dream about my father. He was leading me out of the woods and telling me in a soft voice that everything was going to be okay. He kept assuring me that I was going to be fine. I wasn't sure what he was talking about, since everything seemed alright to me, but he was adamant that I had to stay by the fence while he continued into the wilderness alone. He told me to pick dandelions in the Meadow, and repeated that I wasn't to go in the woods yet. He said I had to wait many years before that could happen. He told me he'd be waiting with Prim to greet me when that time came. The last thing I remember about the dream was the fact that my father was singing quietly to himself as he left me by myself in the Meadow.

I train my eyes onto the place where I know Peeta's face is, wondering what he would make of the dream. Should I tell him? It doesn't really seem noteworthy, but I have a feeling it was significant somehow. His breathing indicates he's still fast asleep, and I decide I'm tired enough to get some more rest, too. I close my eyes, but I'm soon snapped back into focus by a sound that escapes Peeta's mouth. It's a part moan, part cry, and my eyes fly open. I switch in the light. Peeta is still passed out, but it seems as though he's having a nightmare. His hands and teeth are clenched, and his normally passive face holds an expression of fury. I panic for a moment and actually consider leaving. But I know I can't do that. Instead, I stroke his hair and softly whisper kind words in his ear.

"Shhh, Peeta, it's alright," I say. "You're not alone anymore. You have me now, remember? I love you. Shhh."

My words don't seem to calm him down and his nightmare continues. I desperately try to turn this thing around before it becomes violent. I start to sing.

_Evil come into this night, you may take away my fight,_

_But know you'll never beat me. _

_All my hopes may take flight, and I might not escape your might,_

_But know you'll never beat me. _

_For those I've loved along the way, come stand with me at break of day,_

_They keep me strong and hold fear at bay, knowing you'll never beat me. _

_I'll grow strong while you grow weak, until you're lying at my feet__, _

_Nothing but darkness on the ground, now so small but once so proud,_

_You fell victim to the light, once again all is right,_

_So come along you worthless thing, may you hear our voices ring,_

_Promising justice as we sing, and know you'll never beat me. _

Peeta's face and hands slowly started to relax the second the first line came tumbling out of my mouth. He woke up sometime during the middle verse, and stares at my face while I finish the song.

"Why didn't you leave?" he asks.

"I couldn't," I answer truthfully.

He sighs and closes his eyes again. "Thank you," he says, "for singing. It actually worked. Usually nothing can get me out of a nightmare, but I actually heard your voice in my dreams. I've never heard that song before, though. Did you make it up?"

"No," I shake my head. "My father taught it to me the day before he died."

"It's beautiful," he states, eyes still closed.

"Yeah," I agree.

"Did you have a nightmare?"

"No," I say, "I had a good dream. It was about my father."

Peeta gives me a slight smile and opens his eyes. "He's everywhere today."

I smile back and rest my head on his chest again. His arms wrap around me, giving me a sense of security I haven't felt in a long time. We're both quiet and for a while all that fills the room is the sound of breathing and contentment. Twenty minutes later, I can tell Peeta had fallen back asleep and I decide to follow suit. I turn off the light. My eyelids grow heavier and heavier as I slip into unconsciousness. I squeeze Peeta's hand tightly and push myself even closer to him. I sleep easy for the rest of the night.


	12. Chapter 12

**Update time! Sorry about the wait- this stupid flu is so annoying! Now, before you dive head first in my story, I have an interesting tidbit of information for you all. I was looking in my big sister's baby name book- which included each name's meaning of course- when I, (being the obsessed fan I am), decided to see if Peeta and Katniss' names were in there. Katniss' wasn't, but Peeta's was. Apparently, Peeta is a name with English roots (a form of Peter), and it means: 'A man as strong and steady as a rock.**' **Now... Let's just take a minute to reflect on the never-ending cleverness of SC. Not only did she name the best character in her series after bread (because he's a baker, obviously), but she also took the time to give him a name that actually perfectly describes what he is to Katniss. Remember in the first book on the chariot rides when Katniss described Peeta as bring as solid as a rock? Yup, that's pretty cool! Or at least, I think it is. ;) Well, now that I'm done jibber jabbing, please read, review, and enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: This is the twelfth time I've said this: THG series=not mine!**

I wake up slowly, trying to hold tightly to the feeling of ease that is washed over me. _No nightmares_. Its unbelievable. I haven't had a full eight hours of sleep in months. I open my eyes and they immediately train on Peeta. He's not sleeping like I expected him to be. Instead, he's sitting up in bed, drawing a picture on a giant sketch pad. He hasn't noticed I'm awake yet, and he continues to sketch with a stony look on his face. His hands make short, angry marks on the page. All traces of my good mood vanish, the all too familiar feeling of guilt taking it's place. Is he mad at me because I didn't leave last night? It didn't seem like that earlier, but you never know. And did he even remember he had an episode? Was it even an episode, or was it just a nightmare? I have no idea. My heart starts racing as I consider the possibilities. Is he mad at himself? That seems more likely, but I'd much rather have him be mad at me, the person to whom the real guilt belongs. Or what if he's mad I'm still here? Maybe he thought that I'd leave first thing in the morning, and is angry to find me still in his bed. I know he told me I could stay last night, but I had kind of forced him into it. What if he doesn't want me here? What if he doesn't love me? These thoughts spin around and around in my head, each one more unlikely than the last. I blink hard, trying to dispel them from my mind.

"You know," Peeta says dryly, keeping his eyes on his paper, "I understand that I'm beautiful and everything, but the amount of time you spend staring at me is getting ridiculous. And I've only been around you for about two days in the past five months."

His lips quirk up in a smile as he puts his paper down and looks at me. The stony expression slides off his face and disappears entirely. The fact that he can actually sound _normal_, like the Peeta I remember, fills me up with an indescribable joy. A joy that courses through my veins and warms me to the core. I caught glimpses of this Peeta all throughout yesterday, and I noticed he seemed the most like himself by late last night. Maybe Haymitch is right about this whole help-each-other-out thing. It seems like it's working so far. I sit up until I'm eye level with him.

"Sorry," I say, "I can't help it."

He scoots closer to me and takes my hand. "That's okay," he says, "neither can I." I smile as he leans down and kisses me. My arms wrap around him and his do the same to me. "I love you," he says softly when we break apart. "I hope you never forget that."

I kiss him again. "How could I?" I ask. "I love you too, remember?" I look over his shoulder at the sketch pad on the nightstand. "What are you drawing?"

He shrugs and shifts to block my view. "Nothing, really. Just an idea for a new painting to put in my studio."

"Is it the nightmare you had last night?" I ask.

He nods. "Yeah".

"Do you want to talk about it?" I ask.

"No, you don't have to hear that," he says.

"I'll listen if it'll help you," I offer.

"No, that's okay," he replies.

"Okay," I let it drop. "What do you want to do today?"

Peeta shrugs. "I just want to spend every possible minute of the rest of my life with you."

I'm shocked. He's said this before. Back in another place, another time. He interrupts before I can answer. "I've said that before, haven't I? Real or not real?"

"Real," I say.

He gives me a sad smile that makes my heart hurt. "I thought so."

"Do you remember saying that?" I ask, my curiosity getting the better of me.

"I think so," he frowns in concentration, "It was before the Quell, right?"

"Yeah," I say.

"Well, I guess I _do_ remember saying that."

"It seems like you're getting a little better at remembering things," I say. "You're much... calmer than you used to be."

His reaction takes me by surprise. "Are you joking?" His voice is incredulous and quiet. "I can barely remember anything at all. Just the occasional moments that didn't involve a camera and all the time I spent in that hellhole. Everything else is just as confusing as ever. Almost all of my memories are tainted."

I swallow my disappointment. His hand squeezes mine a little tighter, whether for comfort or reassurance, I don't know. "Well then," I say, "We'll just have to make new memories. Good ones. Together. Right now."

He turns to look in my eyes. "That won't be easy, Katniss. I'm telling you that right now."

"I know," I say. Of course I do. "But we're doing it anyway. We have to."

He sighs and rubs a hand over his face. "Alright. Where do you want to start?"

I think for a moment, but all I can really register is how hungry I am. Did we even eat dinner yesterday? My rumbling stomach says we didn't. "How about breakfast?"

Peeta smirks a little than kisses the top of my head. "Okay. Let's go."

We go downstairs and its immediately evident that there isn't a single thing to eat in the house. All of the food in the fridge is rotten and the cupboards are bare. "Really, Peeta, don't you ever eat?" I ask.

He comes up behind me and peers into the cupboards. "I ate at your house."

"That doesn't count!" I say, exasperated. I take in his shrunken frame, poor posture, and shadowed eyes. "You need to take better care of yourself. Come on, we're eating at my house again."

"You're one to talk," he mutters as I brush past him to the door. I can swear I can hear a smile in his voice, though. He catches up outside and takes my hand. Once we're in my kitchen, all of my thoughts turn to food. I'm starving. I start to haphazardly pull random things out of the fridge while he takes things out of the cupboard. He arranges them on the counter in a neat, orderly fashion. He crosses over to the sink and washes his hands. "Do you have measuring utensils?" he asks.

"Hmm? Yeah, they're in that drawer right there," I say distractedly. I abandon my efforts at the fridge. "Are you going to bake me something?"

"I'm going to bake _me_ something," he jokes. "You can't have any."

I play along, happy to have some humor back in my life. "What? I believe it's _my _food you'll be cooking with, Mr. Mellark. That makes whatever you bake _mine_."

"Not if I'm the one baking it," he points out in mock outrage. "And don't call me Mr. Mellark. It makes me sound old."

I smile as he pushes past me to the ingredients on the counter. "But Mr. Mellark," I tease, "You're eighteen years old. That _is_ old. Practically ancient."

He laughs and spins around to face me. "You're eighteen, too," he retorts. "And if that's old, then you're just as much of an old lady as I am an old man."

"Shut up," I say dramatically. "I've barely been eighteen for two days. You've had months to get used to the idea."

"Very true," he concedes. "I admit it. I'm an old man who obviously was cooking this food just for you, since it all belonged to you in the first place, and I deserve none of it. Happy?" He leans down and gives me a long kiss.

"Somewhat," I say breathlessly. "I'd be happier if you tell me what you're baking."

Peeta smiles down at the dough forming between his hands. "Nope, I'm not telling you anything. Not until you say I can have some."

I heave a great sigh, acting like he's asking for the moon or something. "I guess I can let you have a little. We'll split it ninety to ten percent."

He rolls the dough some more before leaving it and crossing his arms in front of me. "Not good enough," he states. "I demand fifty-fifty."

I laugh at the stern expression he's trying to keep on his face. "No deal," I say. We have a stare-down for a moment, neither of us saying anything but maintaining perfect eye contact with one another. Before I can fend him off, he suddenly darts forward and backs me into the opposite counter, pressing a kiss on my lips.

"How about now?" he asks. "Will you reconsider?"

I struggle halfheartedly to escape his hold on me. All that really does is encourage him to press me harder against the counter. I try to ignore the fact that his hands are resting casually on my hips, his thumbs dangerously close to my over-sized waistband. A part of me wonders how it's possible my heart is still inside my chest- it's beating faster than I've ever felt it beat before. "Okay," I relent, failing miserably at sounding nonchalant. "Eighty-twenty."

"Sorry," he says cockily, "I don't think so." He presses himself up against me and kisses me again. "Now?" he asks when we break apart.

I wrap my arms around his neck and shake my head. I'm literally sandwiched between him and the counter. It's sharp edges poke into my back. He notices and easily lifts me up until I'm sitting on it, my legs dangling over the side. We're at eye level now. "You know," I tease, "I really don't feel like it." He smiles and steps forward until my legs are wrapped around his middle. That's odd. They seemed to have done that without my permission. I find my fingers playing with the hairs at the nape of his neck. "But I _am_ feeling a little generous," I continue. "I'll give you thirty percent, final offer."

He laughs and mutters something that sounds suspiciously like _'yeah, right'_. I don't have time to question him because before I know it, he's pushing himself up against the counter and I'm clinging to him tightly as we kiss once more. The food in question lies forgotten in a heap on the other counter. The hunger I'm feeling right now has nothing to do with my stomach. I can feel the spark in my chest grow to an ember as I kiss him again and again, holding onto him as tight as possible. His hands slide up and down my back, tantalizingly slow. They travel from my shoulders all the way down to my hips as he pulls me into his arms. They're not as strong as they used to be, and they falter slightly under my weight. Peeta steadies himself, and somehow we make it to the couch. I fall on top of him and whisper in his ear. "Alright, you win." I pull back and kiss him again. "The food is yours." A second, softer kiss, then I whisper, "_I'm yours."_

He can't hold back a grin as he flips us around. Now he's hovering over me on the couch, supporting all his weight on his arms. "I knew you'd see it my way," he says, kissing my hair. His lips move down my forehead and I close my eyes. "Now that you gave it to me, I guess it's safe to tell you I'm making you cheese bread. Or rather, cheese buns." he kisses both of my eyelids with a touch as light as a feather. "I know they're your favorite thing in the world. Well, other than me, of course." I laugh and bask in the happiness I'm feeling. If I was told a week ago what I was doing right now, I probably would have punched the unfortunate messenger in the face. Now I can't imagine any other reality.

"So you think you're my favorite?" I say mischievously, as Peeta moves his lips down to my neck.

"Aren't I?" he murmurs, sounding utterly confident I'll say yes. I decide to mess with him a little. I bring my hands underneath him to his exposed stomach, which clenches eagerly at my touch. I find his waistband, and slip my fingers underneath, just barely far enough to make sure what he thinks I was about to do doesn't happen. He gasps quietly against my neck when he realizes where my hands are at. I slowly run my fingers out of there and let them trail all the way back up his clenched stomach, broad chest, neck, and then finally reach his face. He gives a moan so primal I actually feel elated that I can get that sound out of him. I pull his head from my neck and whisper in his ear.

"I'd rather have the bread."

He laughs against me, and slowly works his lips back down, taking a very circuitous route to my neck. His hands come help him, and I give him a moan just as primal as he gave me. My hands have a mind of their own, exploring his body as they never have before. They traverse the back of his neck, run lightly down his back, and then come back up, where they continue the circuit. He gives me one last deep kiss, then starts moving as though he's planning to get up. "Well if you really feel that way," he says mockingly, "I guess I better go back to the kitchen."

"Hold it," I order, prompting him to freeze like a statue. "Get back here, old man. You're not going anywhere." I seize the front of his shirt and pull him back on top of me, relishing the feeling of his hands roaming up and down my sides. I slip my hands under his shirt and trace the hard muscles that have been made prominent from the weeks of training in District Thirteen so long ago. Somewhere in the back of my mind I vaguely wonder if he still does the exercises at home. The tensing of his abdominal muscles let me know he must. I smile as he sits up to tear off his shirt, revealing a perfectly muscled chest riddled with shiny pink scars that match my own. At least I don't have to be ashamed about my appearance around him. He knows exactly what it's like to look in the mirror and see melted pink patches where skin should be. His full weight rests on me as he throws the shirt to the ground, and I catch myself wishing he weighed even more. I throw myself at him, pulling him back down to me, and busy myself with kissing as much of his bare chest as I possibly can. My fingers roam up and down his entire upper body. His hands have just slipped under my shirt and my stomach muscles have just clenched in anticipation when a loud beeping sound eminating from the kitchen freezes us both in our tracks.

"What the hell is that?" I demand, annoyed that the stupid sound interrupted us. My voice doesn't sound nearly as mad as I feel it should, given the fact that I'm breathing quickly and heavily.

"The oven," Peeta replies, sounding almost as mad as me. He's breathing just as quickly and heavily as I am. He unwillingly removes his hands from under my shirt, trailing his fingers lightly down from my ribs to the waistband of his pajama pants I'm wearing. This one touch makes me shiver and moan again. I dejectedly remove my hands from his chest and move them up to his face, so I can pull him back down to me and keep him here. He tries unsuccessfully to slide off the couch, but my legs are wrapped around him and I refuse to let him leave. "It's letting us know it's at the right temperature. I preheated it for the bread." He explains patiently. He smirks at my legs and then pauses as we both look down in surprise at our hands, which have somehow found each other without us noticing and are now glued together.

"I'll go with you to the kitchen," I offer, knowing that there's no chance at all he's leaving without me.

"Come on then," he smiles, getting off the couch and picking me up in his arms. He gives me one last kiss before setting me on my feet. I snatch his hand as we make our way slowly to kitchen. Twice he has to stop and push me against a wall and kiss me furiously because he claimed, "you had something on your mouth, I was just helping you out". I can easily confess that I did the same to him three times as a thank you for "helping me out so much". Needless to say we were both out of breath by the time we reached the kitchen, and both my hands and lips have found their way back onto his chest. Peeta finished the bread in record time, and tossed the pan recklessly in the oven, not bothering to double check the timer as he used to do. Now we're standing in the kitchen, our foreheads pressed together, both breathing fast.

"Now _this_ is what I call making a good memory," he declares, laughing. He kisses me yet again, slipping his hands back under my shirt, where they come to rest on my flat stomach.

For some stupid reason, I blush.

**Well guys, a lot happened in** **this chapter. I thought I'd give you guys a lot of fluff since you seem to enjoy it and I feel guilty about not updating for so long. Not to worry, my conscience is now officially healed! And for all of you that love those dramatic, PTSD filled chapters, stay tuned, I promise they're coming soon. **

**P.S.: If any if you feel like making me feel better about being sick during spring break, please, please, please, feel free to press that pesky little review button down in the corner there. (Go ahead, you know you want to...) :p**


	13. Chapter 13

I eat the cheese buns quickly, scarfing them down in Peeta's lap as we sit in my favorite kitchen chair. His arms are wrapped around my middle, his chin resting on my shoulder. I find I'm very distracted by his mouth, which is dangerously close to the exposed skin on my neck. Unlike me, he's already eaten all his food and is content with locking me in his embrace. Not that I mind at all. I finish my portion hurriedly and then turn around to face him. I meet his lips with mine and then slide off his lap.

"I'm going to go change," I say, "I'll be right back."

He smiles at my ridiculous appearance and nods. "Okay."

I trudge up the stairs, mentally telling my hormones to get back under control. It doesn't seem like they're listening very well. What the hell did I just do? I've never done anything like that before. I've never even _felt _that way before. I mean, did I seriously just _flirt? _Did I or did I not just throw myself all over Peeta_? What is happening? _I try to compose myself before I enter my room, but I'm still so absorbed in my thoughts I forget the door is closed and slam my face right into it. Pain explodes across my nose as I jolt backward, promptly tripping over my long pant legs and hitting the back of my head against the wall.

"Ow..." I exhale, sitting up and rubbing the tender spot on my skull. My fingers move to my face as I gingerly touch my throbbing nose. The pain is severe and I have to bite my tongue to keep from crying out. My hand doesn't come away red, so at least I know I'm not bleeding. I carefully open my door, watching where I place my feet. I quickly throw on a suitable outfit, wincing when the cotton comes in contact with my nose.

I walk back down into the kitchen, not surprised to see Peeta hard at work on a drawing. He's staring down at a piece of paper, sunlight streaming through the long blonde lashes that frame his eyes.

"You look exactly the same as you did when we would work on the plant book," I comment, taking the seat across from him.

He smiles a little and keeps drawing. "I remember those days. One of the few moments without a camera." He takes a deep breath. "I saw paper on the desk right there and I got bored, so I thought I'd jus-" he finally looks up. "Katniss! What the hell happened to you?!" He practically launches out of his seat and comes to stand by my chair. His warm hand cups my cheek as he tilts my head into the light. I unsuccessfully try to push him off.

"It's nothing," I say, "I just tripped upstairs."

"It looks terrible," he says, leaning closer for a better look. "Hang on, let me get you some ice." He rushes over to the freezer, rummaging through it's contents. "Tell me what happened," he demands.

I sigh, not wanting to reveal just how stupid I really am. "I told you, I tripped upstairs. My face hit my bedroom door and then I tripped again into the wall."

He comes back with a dish towel loaded with ice. He gently holds it against my nose while looking anxiously into my eyes. "You tripped twice? On what?"

"Nothing at first, then your stupid pant legs," I mumble, still trying to get away from him. It's no use. He's got my arm in a tight hold. I settle for glaring resentfully at him, as though I was trying to make him feel guilty for having long legs. He doesn't respond, just keeps pressing the ice firmly against my nose. The stupid stuff is melting against my warm flesh and is sending tiny droplets sliding down my nose. This makes it itch unbearably.

I push my irritation aside and look down at Peeta's drawing. Three boys fill the page. I immediately recognize Peeta in the middle, looking like he's about ten years old. His face is lit up in a bright smile as he stares up from the paper, both arms wrapped around the other boys' necks. The boy on the right is smiling just as broadly, one arm reaching up over Peeta's head and behind the third boy, making it seem as though the third boy has bunny ears. His eyes have a mischievous glint about them, and his cheeks are spattered with freckles. The last boy is much taller than the other two, and has a quiet smile on his face. His eyes are rolled as he tries to disengage himself from Peeta's grasp. His face has a kind, good-natured look about it, and he is very handsome. His hair is in a crew-cut, while Peeta and the other boy have a head full of curls that fall a little past their ears. All three are stocky and have the same nose.

Peeta follows my gaze to the paper. "My brothers," he says, "Chris and Kevin."

"How much older are they than you?" I ask.

"Chris is two years older, Kevin is four," he answers. "I drew us when we were nine, eleven, and thirteen."

"It's amazing," I say, running a finger over nine-year-old Peeta's hair. "You draw fast."

He merely shrugs, gazing at the picture in silence.

"What were you guys doing?" I ask, "Did you make this picture up or was it a real memory?"

"It was real," he says. "It's a drawing of a picture of us that I used to have. We were at the bakery."

"Oh," is all I can say. "What were you guys so happy about?"

"It was my birthday," he replies. "That's all I can remember." He presses the ice just a little bit harder into my nose. It seems like an unconscious action.

"He looks like he was fun," I say, pointing to the boy giving the other one the bunny ears.

"That's Chris," says Peeta, a small smile illuminating his face.. "Always the joker. He could never take anything seriously."

I smile, too. "What about Kevin?"

"Kevin was more reserved than Chris and I. He was the best big brother you could have, though. He taught us how to wrestle and he would always help Dad protect us from Mom when she got mad."

"You had to be protected from your own mother?" I ask, remembering that fateful day in the rain. I saw the witch strike Peeta before, but I thought it was only a one time thing.

"She got mad a lot." he explains, "she would beat us whenever she got angry and so Dad and Kevin would try to take mine and Chris' fall whenever we messed up. She never hit Dad, and Kevin usually got off easier than us."

"Why?" I ask, instantly repulsed by any mother that would hit her children.

"I don't really know," Peeta frowns, trying to recall a reason. "I think I asked my Dad once, and he told me that before she was pregnant with Chris, but already had Kevin, she was pregnant with another baby. A girl. She had a stillbirth and never really got over it. I think she resented Chris and I because we were boys and we lived."

"That's terrible," I whisper, pushing the ice pack aside and giving Peeta a much-needed hug. "I'm so sorry."

I can feel him shrug. "It is what it is."

I pull back, and he places the ice pack back on my face. "The rest of your family seemed nice," I say, "I can't believe I never met your brothers, though. I only knew your dad."

"They wanted to meet you, but my mom wouldn't let them," he explains. "She didn't want them '_mixing with the Seam trash_'." His voice is mocking and his face looks disgusted. "Sorry," he says, "I was quoting her."

"That's okay, I get it," I say.

"I wish there was a way to show you what they were like," he says wistfully. "Something tangible, instead of just my unreliable memories."

I look at his sad face than down at the paper. I suddenly get a flashback of the two if us working on the plant book together, his precise drawings and my careful handwriting.

"There is a way," I say so suddenly Peeta starts. "Remember the plant book? We could do that again, this time writing about people we knew and what they were like. It would be a way of remembering them and how they lived."

"That's an idea," he says thoughtfully. "But that would take a lot of work and focus. Are we up to it?"

I nod, carried on by the ideas forming in my mind. I can do something with meaning again. I can finally have a purpose. I can actually do _good_. "I'll force myself to focus," I say quickly. "We could work together on it every day, building new memories. It can be like a type of therapy."

"And we would be giving a tribute to all of those people we lost," says Peeta, warming up to the idea. "I like it. But we can't rush into this. First we need supplies. Good ones, from the Capitol. This'll be tough."

"Well good thing we know someone in contact with the Capitol," I say, shuddering inwardly when my lips form the vile word. "Let's go see what Haymitch can do." I grab the drawing and stand up.

Peeta smiles as he grabs my hand and leads me to the living room, where he throws on his shirt. We head out into the morning air, feeling like we have a purpose for the first time in a while.


	14. Chapter 14

**Hoppy Easter everybody! Haha, get it? _Hoppy_ Easter? Somebody? Anybody? Nobody? Okay... Anyways, back to my AN! I just want to apologize again for the wait. I was busy enjoying my last days of Spring Break. Sorry! Oh yeah, I also forgot to put in a Disclaimer last chapter, so I'll put in two today. You know, because I know how you guys love my awesome, repetitive Disclaimers. *cue evil laughter***

**Disclaimer: If I owned this series, I would make Katniss less emotionally-challenged. But I don't own anything, so Katniss is the same confused person as ever before.**

**Disclaimer: If I had a dollar for every awesome book series I own, I would still have no money. **

We work on the book everyday. Blank pages bloom with fresh ink and the faces of those we've lost. Some entries are longer than others, some are shorter. Prim's entry takes up three whole pages by itself. Sometimes the work gets to be too much and we have to take breaks. We know we have to stop when our throats start to close and we begin to choke on our tears. One of us always comforts the other, though. We force ourselves to make this book come to life, always trying to work through the pain. Still, there are plenty of times when I find myself collapsed on the floor, shaking over a particularly realistic picture or a resurfacing memory. It's during these times that Peeta has to stop whatever he's doing and comfort me. Usually he just strokes my hair and tells me everything's alright. Other times, I grow almost hysterical with grief and my only solace can be found in his arms. Peeta will then pull me into his lap and hold me close while I soak his shirt with tears. Eventually I calm down and we do something else for a while. Sometimes we go for a walk in the woods, other times we visit Haymitch. Things are different when I have to comfort Peeta, though. His tears don't fall as often as mine do, but they fall nonetheless. Usually they're spurred on by entries about his family that we put in the book. His tears are always silent and he never lets me comfort him at first. He seems to think that he should feel guilty for crying about anything, even the deaths' of his family. I always persuade him to let me help though, and he eventually allows me to wrap my arms around him and give him the comfort he desperately needs.

Weeks pass in this fashion, both of us just trying to get through the day. Peeta starts sleeping in my bed every night, but he hasn't officially abandoned his house. He goes there for a couple of hours a day to work on his paintings, something that he says Dr. Aurelius encourages him to do. In the three weeks we've shared a bed, he's only had four episodes, none of which were violent. I've discovered that singing softly in his ear helps him to head off the terror he feels during an episode or nightmare, and it helps him recover faster. I tell him I love him every day, hoping he still believes me. I think he does, because he always says it back and proceeds to give me a hug or kiss. We haven't touched in the way we did when he made cheese buns since that day. Instead, we often share sweet kisses, hugs, and the comfort of each other's arms. It's amazing, really, the changes another person can bring out in you. I find myself smiling more, eating more, even laughing. I can see the same change taking place in Peeta. Right now he's walking back from the train station. He goes there every Sunday, to see if any more paper is being sent our way for the book. So far we have filled two-hundred sheets of paper in our book, and are on our final page... my father. We would have done his page sooner, but I always found myself procrastinating to make his entry. I'm just writing down the color of his eyes when Peeta comes bursting through the door.

"You've got a letter," he says as I flinch violently, almost ruining the whole page. "It's from Annie."

"Annie?" I repeat, holding out my hand. Peeta hands me the letter and then sits against my knees at the base of the couch, nodding his head. I slide down so I'm sitting next to him, and his arm encircles me. "Why would she be writing me?" We were never close in District Thirteen, but we didn't dislike each other, either.

"I don't know," says Peeta. "What does it say?"

I tear open the letter and try to decipher her loopy handwriting. I can make out something about Finnick, a hospital, my mother, and a word that looks suspiciously like _baby_. "Can you read this?" I ask, handing the letter to Peeta. His hand bumps mine in order to grasp the letter, and it causes a square slip of paper to flutter from the back of the letter and onto the floor. We glance at each other before Peeta reaches down and picks up the thick square in his palm. It looks blank, but I flip it over in his hand and gasp at what I see. It's a picture of a newborn baby, swaddled in a blue blanket and tucked in Annie's arms. Her face is tired and sweaty but filled with a kind of joy that I'm sure has never been there before.

Peeta gasps with me and quickly reaches for the letter. Apparently it's legibility poses no challenge to him because he immediately says, "That's Finley Odair the day he was born... he's Finnick's son."

"What?" I exclaim, darting my eyes down to the picture, "Can you read the letter out loud?"

He looks at the picture one more time before obliging. "Dear Katniss," he reads, "How have you been? Are you getting better? Is Peeta with you? Is Gale? I'm doing well here in District Four, and I'm happy to tell you that last week I was blessed with my beautiful baby boy, Finley. He's mine and Finnick's son. I found out I was pregnant with him the day Finnick left for the Capitol with you. He never knew about Finley, but I'm going to make sure Fin knows about him. Did you know your mom lives here now? She was my midwife for Fin at the hospital. She says she wants to see you, and Fin and I do, too. She says she has a week off in July, and asked me to give you her new phone number. It's written at the bottom of the page. Please write back if you want to come visit Fin and I. I understand if you don't. Sincerely, Annie Odair."

Peeta sets the paper on the coffee table and looks anxiously at me, trying to read the expression on my face. I honestly don't know how I'm feeling right now. A part of me is feeling happy about Annie's baby, another part of me is feeling strange about being happy, and the majority of me is filled with dread at the thought of having to speak to my mother again. I haven't spoken to her in three months, and I wasn't planning on ending that streak anytime soon. I feel Peeta start to tense, so I reach for his hand and grab it tightly. I put a smile on my face. It doesn't fool him.

"What's wrong Katniss?" he asks, as if he doesn't know.

"Nothing," I lie automatically. I try changing the subject by looking down at the picture in Peeta's other hand. "Look at him," I whisper, staring at Finley Odair's face.

"He has his father's eyes." Peeta says,"But that's not what I asked about."

I look up from the picture and see Peeta looking right at me. "Nothing's wrong," I repeat, not breaking eye contact. "I told you, I'm fine."

"No you're not," he states, but lets the subject drop. "Let's put this on Finnick's page," he says. I quickly flip to his page as Peeta puts glue on the back of the photograph. He sticks the picture right next to Finnick's smiling face. It looks nice.

We spend the rest of the day finishing the book. When we're done, we take it over to Haymitch's house because he helped us fill the blank pages with memories of all the kids he's had to mentor, among other's he's lost. We seal the pages of the book with salt water and promises to make their lives count. Peeta and I go back to my house where Peeta sets the book carefully on the mantle. We both look at it for a moment, but eventually it all becomes too much for me and I start to cry some more. I hold out my arms and mumble something like Peeta's name. He's over to me in a flash, letting me cry into his shirt as he gently picks me up in his arms. He carries me up to my room and lays me gently on the bed. I scoot over so he can join me and he crawls in next to me. He strokes my hair and tells me he loves me while I cry myself out. I almost drift off to sleep, wiped out from the emotions and events of the day. Before I do, I make sure to pull Peeta down for a long kiss and a hug for all he's done for me today. I can just make out his smile in the darkness as he holds me tighter to him. I burrow further into his chest as he grips me a little tighter.

"I love you," I whisper. "So much ."

"I love you too," he replies, giving me a kiss.

We fall asleep, comfortably warm in each other's embrace.

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	15. Chapter 15

**I have the feeling some of you are gonna hate me for this chapter, so consider this me apologizing in advance to you guys. ;) To all those people who just want to see Peeta and Katniss finally happy, getting married and having pretty babies... You'll have to wait awhile. I promise those parts will come, just not for a long time. ;) Anyways, this chapter is very necessary I think, to show that just because our favorite couple is back together, everything still isn't sunshine and lollipops and rainbows and all that other fun stuff. I mean, this story is called '_Recovering_ Hope', right?... *insert sad nodding of head here'.**

**Disclaimer: Apparently Suzanne Collins is too good to accept high-fives in exchange for her series...**

I notice Peeta's absence before I'm even fully awake. I stretch out my arms, seeking his warmth, but finding only tangled sheets next to me. I withdraw my arm worriedly, wondering where he could possibly be. He doesn't usually get out of bed until I do. It's not until I see long streaks of red on my arms that I fully wake up. Warm, slippery, scarlet blood is pooled in a small puddle on Peeta's side of the bed. It's soaking the white sheets and small drops of it lead to the bedroom door. I'm up in a flash, running through my house and screaming Peeta's name. There's no answer. My heart starts pounding as I let my hunter's instincts take over. The drops of blood lead to the bottom of the staircase and then abruptly stop. A smear of red on the door knob tells me he's somewhere outside. I struggle with the knob until it flies open and I sprint past the door.

"Peeta!" I scream in the middle of my yard. My head whips from side to side as I search desperately for a sign of him. My eyes immediately find his house and I'm running towards it as fast as I can. My bare feet catch on the paving stones on the road, causing me to trip and fall into his yard. I pick myself up and keep going. I bust into his house, slamming the door behind me.

"Peeta!" I scream, sucking in a deep breath before I yell again. "Peeta!" I tear through every one of rooms, searching with no success. I start to panic and I'm pretty sure I'm hyperventilating. I spin around in his kitchen, looking for any sign of him at all. There's nothing. My breath keeps coming faster and faster, making me dizzy. I'm breathing so quickly it doesn't make any sense. Right now I should be cool and collected, calmly looking for Peeta. That's what would be best for him. But I'm not. Instead, my head is filled with a blind panic, images of his blood on the bed burned in my mind. I quickly turn on my heel and run back into the street, where I stand panting like a wild animal or something. I've just decided to break down Haymitch's door when I see it. A broken window in the living room window of the house across the street. The absence of glass shards on this side of the window tells me somebody broke into that house. And I think I know who that somebody is.

My feet carry me over to the window, and I crawl through it. My breathing is faster than ever as I stand alone in the house's dark living room. My hands find the place where my light switch is at home and I flip it on. Light floods my surroundings and I'm rewarded by a drop of blood on the tan carpet. "Peeta!" I shout, crossing over to the sticky red speck. I spot another drop staining the floor by the kitchen doorway. I burst in the kitchen, nearly tripping over a prone body on the floor. Peeta.

"Peeta?" I whimper, dropping to my knees and pushing his hair out of his eyes. "Peeta?"

He gives me no response, just lays on the floor facing the ceiling. I stare at his blank face, then move my eyes down to his body. His hands, wrists, and right arm are all bleeding lightly. I'm just about to remove his shirt to better examine him when he sits up with a start.

"Peeta!" I cry, pulling him into my arms. "What's happening? What's going on? Are you okay?" He flinches at the sound of my voice, staring straight in my eyes, saying nothing. I open my mouth to speak again when I first feel the shaking. Violent, terrible shaking that rocks whole body and is accompanied by heart-breaking sobs. I've seen this before, on my eighteenth birthday.

Peeta is having another episode.

I'm at a total loss for what to do. The dizziness in my head isn't helping at all, either. I let him cry in my arms before I remember what I've learned these past few weeks. Peeta calms down when I sing. I must sing. The pieces click together in my head as I come up with the first song I can think of.

_"You and I walk a fragile line  
_

_I have known it all this time_

_but I never thought I'd live to see it break_

* * *

_It's getting dark and it's all too quiet_

_And I can't trust anything now_

_And it's coming over you like it's all a big mistake_

* * *

_Oh, I'm holding my breath_

_Won't lose you again_

_Something's made your eyes go cold_

* * *

_Come on, come on, don't leave me like this_

_I thought I had you figured out_

_Something's gone terribly wrong_

_You're all I wanted_

_Come on, come on, don't leave me like this_

_I thought I had you figured out_

_Can't breathe whenever you're gone_

_Can't turn back now, I'm haunted_

* * *

_Stood there and watched you walk away_

_From everything we had_

_But I still mean every word I said to you_

_He would try to take away my pain_

_And he just might make me smile_

_But the whole time I'm wishing he was you instead_

* * *

_Oh, I'm holding my breath_

_Won't see you again_

_something keeps me holding on to nothing_

* * *

_Come on, come on, don't leave me like this_

_I thought I had you figured out_

_Something's gone terribly wrong_

_You're all I wanted_

_Come on, come on, don't leave me like this_

_I thought I had you figured out_

_Can't breathe whenever you're gone_

_Can't turn back now, I'm haunted_

* * *

_I know, I know, I just know_

_You're not gone. You can't be gone. No._

* * *

_Come on, come on, don't leave me like this_

_I thought I had you figured out_

_Something's gone terribly wrong_

_Won't finish what you started_

_Come on, come on, don't leave me like this_

_I thought I had you figured out_

_Can't breathe whenever you're gone_

_Can't go back, I'm haunted_

* * *

_Oh_

_You and I walk a fragile line  
_

_I have known it all this time_

_Never ever thought I'd see it break._

_Never thought I'd see it..."_

Peeta's eyes flutter open and his sobbing slowly subsides as I sing. He stares into my eyes, never breaking eye contact. His shaking is as violent as ever though, and even after I finish my song he's trembling like a leaf.

"Peeta?" I ask carefully. "What happened?"

My words aren't very clear due to the tears that are spilling in my mouth. But I think Peeta understands because he clenches his teeth and spits out, "Episode." His eyes are a darker shade of blue than normal, but they stay trained on my face. We stare in each other eyes until I can see the fog lift from his features and he sits up. His shaking has stopped and he takes a deep breath.

"Katniss I-"

Whatever he was about to say is immediately drowned out by the sounds of my sobs. I throw myself in his lap, wrapping my arms around his torso and burying my face in his neck. His arms hesitate to hold me at first, but I guess he gives in because a moment later he's holding me tightly. His arms are sticky and sweaty and bloody, but I don't care. All that matters is he's here. All that matters is he came back to me again. I start making those awful choking sounds I get when I sob and I can't stop. I'm hyperventilating again and Peeta comforts me.

"Shhh, Katniss, I'm okay," he whispers, hugging me tighter. "I'm alright now, don't worry about me."

The insanity of his statement and the fact that _he's_ comforting _me_, makes me sob even louder.

"Don't ever leave again!" I cry through my tears. "Damn it, Peeta! I didn't know what to do without you! Why weren't you there?! Why?!"

He squeezes me tighter and says, "I had an episode as soon as I woke up from a nightmare last night. I tried resisting it, but I couldn't. I had to get out of there before I hurt you. I ran here because I knew you'd come looking for me at my house, and I couldn't risk hurting you. I just couldn't."

"You left blood all over my bed!" I screech, totally out of control. "I thought you might've _died_! For all I knew you were dying in a ditch somewhere and I had no idea where you were! You left me all alone! How could you, Peeta?!" I cry harder and push myself even farther into his embrace.

"I didn't leave you all alone!" Peeta shouts, losing his patience. "I left you _safe_. Away from me."

"I don't want to be safe!" I shout back, pulling away from him and looking him in the eyes. "I want to be with you!"

"Well that's too damn bad, Katniss!" he retorts, looking intently back at me. "I did what I had to do. I had no other choice."

"You could have woken me up!" I yell, venting all my feelings in my words. "You could have asked for help! I would have helped you!"

"I don't deserve your help!" Peeta yells back, pushing me off his lap. We stand up together, angrily trying to state each other down. "I don't deserve anything!"

"That's not true!" I scream, completely losing my head. I cross over to him and try to push him backwards, but he's so heavy, I'm not strong enough. I punctuate each of my words with weak punches to his chest. "You-deserve-everything!" I break down in wailing sobs again.

He takes a step back in order to get away from my flailing fists. "Stop!" he shouts. "Stop trying to save me and help me feel better all the time! It's a losing battle, Katniss! Can't you see?! I'm not ever going to get better. Ever! So don't even try anymore!"

I step closer to him, angrily wiping away my tears. With every step I take forward he takes one back. "Don't _ever_ tell me to stop trying!" I scream. "Never say that! I will never stop trying to help you, and if you want to hate me for it, go right on ahead, but I'll always keep trying!"

"Why?!" He screams back, angrier than I've ever seen before. His eyes are a perfect mixture of angry and confused. "Why bother?!"

I clench my fists and run into him. My fists weakly pummel his chest as I sob. Why can't he understand? "Because I fucking love you, god-damn it!" I cry, punching him again and again until I can't find the energy. I collapse in a heap on the floor at his feet, crying harder than I've ever had before, harder even than when Prim died.

He takes a step away from me, towards the front door. I don't have to look up to know he's crying, too. "Don't." he says coldly. "Don't waste your time loving me."

A second later he's slamming the door, walking away with all the pieces of my shattered heart.

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	16. Chapter 16

**Ahhhh! I'm so sorry guys! It's been too long! I really appreciate all of your wonderful reviews, and MarceEscoto- you're my new best friend! Greetings from America! Enjoy, everybody. Reviews are amazing!**

**Disclaimer: If I owned any part of this series, I would somehow find a way to move Catching Fire's release date to today. Did the movie come out today? Point made. **

I stay on the floor for a long time. Peeta's last words to me echo around and around inside my head. _"Don't waste your time loving me." _How can he say that? What just happened? I thought he loved me. Do his words mean he doesn't anymore? I don't know. How can he not love me? _He promised me 'Always'._

_"Sometimes people don't understand the promises they're making when they make them,"_ a small part of me whispers. The thought is almost too painful to bear. I refuse to believe it, though. "But that's what love is," I say out loud. My voice breaks in odd places through my tears. "Love is keeping the promise anyway."_  
_

How can you just break the promise?

I cry some more into my hands, sitting up and leaning my back on an empty kitchen cupboard. The sky outside the window gets lighter and I realize it must be around noon already. I've been crying here for hours. It's kind of amazing, really, that I have any tears left at all. I've cried in the past year more than anyone should ever have to cry in their life.

Slowly I begin to calm down and fully register my surroundings. It dawns on me just how unsettling an empty house can be. I feel so alone, and very vulnerable. I stand up and bend my legs, working the stiffness from my limbs. I look around, half expecting to see a mutt staring at me from around a corner or something. The hairs stand up on the back of my neck, and I find myself tensed up and wary. Something about this place doesn't sit right with me, and I need to go. Now. I make my way to the door, shuddering when I pass drops of Peeta's blood. Finally I escape into the fresh air outside. My eyes automatically fall on Peeta's house, but I tear my gaze away quickly. Just looking at his house hurts too much. Fresh tears spring to my eyes as I make my way home. I go up to my room, pull off my clothes and collapse into bed before I remember that Peeta's blood still stains my sheets. I stare at the puddle for a moment, crimson against white. My mind flashes back to our cave, when I was no stranger to his blood. I don't bother cleaning it up, I just rip off the sheets, ball them up, and throw them across the room. Then I curl up on the bare mattress, and pull my favorite blanket on top of me. I sink into oblivion, trying not to think of Peeta and thinking of nothing else.

* * *

_I'm all alone, walking through a dead forest. The trees are burnt black and my bare feet are bleeding. I stumble along, hurried by an unknown purpose. I walk for miles by myself, the scenery around me never changing. All I can hear is the hitch of my breath, the steady pounding of my feet, and silence. Loud, loud, silence. _

_Will it ever end?_

_Occasionally I feel like I'm being followed, stalked silently throughout the forest. As time goes on I feel more and more panicked, certain that I'm being hunted. Loud noises break my silent bubble; ragged breathing, dragging feet, and random bursts of insane laughter. The sounds get closer and closer, until they're so close I'm afraid to turn around. I practically run through the ashes of the trees, a feeling of utter terror washing over me. All of a sudden I'm tackled to the ground, clammy hands pushing into my throat, cutting off my breath. I look into the eyes of my attacker, and see every single bad thing I've ever dreaded or experienced in my life. I see my father dying, Prim starving, I see myself killing Glimmer, Marvel, and everybody else I murdered in the Capitol. I see Rue, Finnick, and Mags dying, one slow death after another. Just before my last breath escapes my lips, I feel the crushing weight leave my body. All of a sudden Peeta is there, lifting me up and simultaneously holding back the monster. His blue eyes meet mine and for the first time I feel safe. _

_"Run!" he shouts, wrestling with my fears. I obey mindlessly, never thanking him. All too soon I'm alone again, the silence pressing in on my ears. I traverse even more miles, and before long I feel a presence behind me. Suddenly I'm being choked again, and Peeta appears just as before, showing up right before my last breath. He saves me, and I run away once more. This terrible cycle continues for what feels like years. I almost die, he comes and saves me, I run. On and on it goes. _

_Right now I'm getting choked, forced to stare at the horrors of the past. I can feel that its almost over, the battle almost lost. This is usually about the time Peeta shows up. I wait patiently, certain he's going to appear. _

_He doesn't. _

* * *

I jolt awake quickly, gasping for breath. This is the first nightmare I've had in almost a week. It seems like all the pain that I've escaped during that time has come back full force. My break from all this suffering has collapsed like a bubble being popped.

I roll over in my bed and face Peeta's usual spot. I adjust my head on the pillow, so different from his warm, comfortable, chest. I stare at his sketchbook on the nightstand, and remember how his eyes would look when he would draw in it every morning. They'd narrow in concentration, looking equal parts fierce and gentle, determined yet calm. I remember how he'd always know when I was awake, and would smirk at me whenever he caught me staring. I shake out of my reverie, irritated by how he makes me feel. Even now, when he doesn't love me.

I roll out of bed, and rush into the shower. I drop my underclothes on the floor and step in before the water even warms up. I had to hurry because I wanted to get in before my tears fell. It's easy, when I'm in the shower, to pretend the water running down my face comes from the shower head, not my eyes. I go downstairs and look at the kitchen clock. It's seven. Might as well eat dinner. I pick at a meal of cheese buns and squirrel meat, then trudge back up to bed. I lie awake under the covers for hours, absorbed in my thoughts. Eventually I accept I won't get any sleep, and I sit up in bed. My eyes wander back to Peeta's sketchbook. I hesitate for a little, then reach out and grab it. I start thinking this would be a big invasion of privacy, but then I remind myself I don't have to care anymore. I sit criss-cross in bed, leaning against the headboard, the sketchbook in my lap. I open it to the first page, and look at Peeta's drawings for the first time. I'm surprised to see the first one is of me, fast asleep next to him, wearing my favorite pajamas. A small smile graces my lips, and I'm clinging tightly to a hand that could only be Peeta's. What really strikes me about this picture is how normal I look, the complete opposite of the mutt I expected. I thought for sure that this sketchbook was full of new paintings to do. Nightmares and things. I know for a fact that he has an identical sketchbook somewhere filled with those types of drawings, because I've seen him working in it and then taking it to his house to paint. I just thought that this book in my hand was that other one.

I give the drawing one last look, then move to the next one. This picture shows the two of us kissing on the couch, my hands wrapped around his neck and his pressed into the small of my back. I remember that day. It was one of the few days when we both felt happy and whole. We practically spent the whole time on the couch, laughing and talking and just having fun. My chest starts filling with an odd sort of pain and I quickly turn the page. The third sketch shows me yet again, scowling up at Peeta from under a layer of flour that covers me from head to toe. He's laughing at me, leaning casually against the kitchen counter. I remember this, too. Peeta naively tried teaching me to bake, with disastrous consequences. I measured wrong, spilled flour everywhere, and then got very distracted by Peeta's lips, causing me to burn the bread. It actually caught on fire in the oven, something that I didn't know was possible.

I skim through the book, stopping in random places. Every single sketch is of me, either by myself or with Peeta. I reach the last filled in page, then stop. This page is covered in writing, not sketches. His neat manuscript fills the whole page in rows.

_"Katniss,"_ it reads,_ "I'm writing this letter to you to make sure you know how much I love you. You're my whole world. I figured you'd look at this book sooner or later, so I wrote this in here for you to find. Hopefully all the other pages will be filled in by the time you read this. I want you to know that I'm not going to be the same Peeta you used to know. I'm going to be sadder, more confused, angrier, guiltier, and sometimes just an ass. It's going to be hard to be around me a lot, and I've forgotten a lot of things that I used to know. I'm going to need your help rebuilding my thoughts and memories, and just know that no matter how hard it seems to be to help me, I'll always be fighting to get back to you. Things have gotten a little better for me since the Capitol, and I remember new things every day. I worry a lot though, about my episodes. They seem to be getting more violent, and the one I had last night was the worst one yet. I never want to hurt you, and I'm afraid that one of these days I will. I've been getting a strange feeling lately, and I'm afraid I'm going to have another bad episode soon. I'll try to control it, but I can't promise you won't get hurt. I wrote this letter to you just so you could have something to hold on to. I love you so much, Katniss, but I don't think you should love me anymore. I'm not worth it. Always, Peeta."_

I stare at the page for a long while, overcome with emotion. So Peeta loves me... right? I still don't know. The Peeta who wrote this might not exist now. He seems to always change every day. I sigh and close the book. I suddenly feel exhausted, despite my seven-hour-long nap earlier. I put the sketchbook back on Peeta's nightstand, and close my eyes. I toss and turn, thinking longingly of Peeta's warm chest and steady heartbeat. I miss our passionate kisses and days spent on the couch. I miss wearing his shirts and laying in bed until three. I miss _him_.

And I hate it.

Why do I have to depend on him? I never needed him before. I never needed anyone before. Well, except for my father and Prim... and they both died. Everyone I need dies. Even Peeta died a little bit when he went to the Capitol. And a piece of me died with him. I search within me for the piece that died, and find it right away. The part of me that died when Peeta left was the piece that made me have hope for the future. The piece that said that there can be some good left in the world, and life can go on. Because the moment I found out Peeta was taken, that part of me was smashed to bits. Peeta was honestly the best person I've ever met. He was deep-down better than the rest of us, and if he was corrupted, how can there be any good left in the world? There can't be.

I release even more tears, no longer having the energy to sob. I slowly get up and cross over to my dresser, where there's a drawer of Peeta's things. I grab my favorite shirt of his- a deep blue one that matches his eyes. I throw it on over my underclothes and then go back to bed. I grab his pillow and switch it with my own tear-stained one. I rest my head on it, breathing in his scent. Finally, I'm able to relax. I cry myself to sleep, cursing Peeta, the world, and myself.

* * *

A loud bang from downstairs wakes me from an unspeakable nightmare. I'm shaking and shivering when the sound brings me to my senses. What was that? Was it a mutt? President Snow? A Peacekeeper?

I creep down my staircase, watching out for creaky steps. I hear another loud bang and a curse coming from my living room. I panic and grab the nearest weapon available- a butcher knife from the kitchen. I run screaming into the living room, flipping on all the lights. A dark figure is struggling in my window, half-in, half-out. I run up to it, brandishing my knife and yelling like there's no tomorrow. My arm comes plummeting downward to stab the intruder in-between the eyes, but all of a sudden I recognize it's face.

"Peeta?" I gasp, swinging my arm upwards and narrowly avoiding stabbing him in the head. I drop the knife.

"What the hell?" he yelps, cringing away from me. He's facing the ceiling with his lower body out the window, hands on the sill. His hands clench against the wood when he sees me with the knife, and he shuts his eyes tight. A moment later he opens his eyes, staring wide-eyed up at me. "It's just me Katniss!"

I merely stare at him, taking in the sight of him trying to slide his artificial leg through the window. He struggles in vain, trying to talk to me. "I'm so sorry Katniss! I was having this really bad nightmare, then I woke up to an even worse episode, and I kept telling myself to calm down, but I couldn't, so I ran away. Then there you were, trying to help me get through it, and what do I do? I lose my head and yell at you, then run away again!" he looks plaintively up at me. "Please, Katniss, I-" The rest of his apology is cut off, due to the fact that I unceremoniously shove him out the window and slam it shut. I see him land in the bushes. He gets up slowly, then moves to the door. He bangs on it, shouting apologies.

"Katniss, please let me explain," he begs. I cross over to the foyer, then look through the peep-hole. Peeta has no shirt on, and has dark circles under his eyes. His blonde curls are disheveled, and he has bits of plant matter attached to his sweat pants. I cross my arms and listen to him for a moment. I take a deep breath, then unlock and pull open the door, prepared to yell obscenities at him.

Instead, I burst into tears.

I run straight into him, pulling his face down to mine and kissing him roughly. He's still trying to apologize, but stops when I pull him inside and slam the door. I kiss him harder, tears streaming down my face. He tries to resume talking, but I pull him closer and kiss him more. He shuts up when our tongues start to dance together, and leans in further. I wrap my arms around him as his hands press into my back.

I step backward and let go, glaring up at him through my tears. I cross my arms and he stares back at me, both of us breathing heavily. My eyes accusingly search him up and down. All of a sudden I lash out, punching him in the chest. He staggers backwards but doesn't say anything. Our eyes meet as I clench my fists and punch him again, letting out my anger. He starts walking backwards but doesn't stop me as I punch him over and over, sobbing and shouting terrible things at him. I stop when we get to the couch, but I don't really have a choice.

Peeta scoops me into his arms, making it impossible for me to assault him further. He rocks me back and forth in his lap, ignoring my attempts to break free of his embrace. I eventually give up and collapse, burying my head into the crook of his neck and crying.

"I..hate...you," I manage to choke out, gasping for air.

"No you don't," Peeta says calmly, letting me stay glued to him. His hands rub small circles in my back. "You love me."

"No...I...don't!" I sob, pressing myself further into him. "I don't...need you...at all."

"That's not true and you know it," he retorts, lifting me up in his arms. He carries me up the stairs and into bed, where he covers me up gently. He glances briefly at the sketchbook and I know he knows I read the letter. His eyes grow sad as he walks away. "I'll be on the couch," he says, reaching the doorknob.

I leap to my feet and grab his hand. I pull him back to my side of the bed and push him under the covers. He lies on his back and I crawl on top of him, pinning him in place. "Please," I say desperately, "stay with me." I kiss him passionately as my legs intertwine with his, our hips pressed together. "I love you."

Peeta sighs then kisses me back. "Do you ever stop crying?" he complains, kissing away my tears.

"Never," I say, dropping my head to his chest, where it rests by his heart. His arms wrap around me, trapping me against him and holding me tightly. We fall asleep like this, broken but together.


	17. Chapter 17

**Hi guys! First off, I'm soooo super duper sorry that I've been a butt who takes forever to update. I promise I'll never wait this long again! Now, I actually have something important to say in here. I'm thinking I'm going to start updating about twice a week with long chapters like this one. It's not permanent yet, so feel free to give me suggestions through Pms or reviews later.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing other than a healthy obsession with the Hunger Games**

A strange hissing sound reaches my ears before I'm fully conscious. It's a raspy, angry sounding snarl that floats through the open window and into my room. I sit straight up in bed, flailing my arms around and sending Peeta plummeting to the floor. His head bangs into the dresser and his sketchbook falls off of it and hits him in the face. He yells in indignation, shooting upright, only to have my foot connect with his jaw as I scramble out of bed and press my back against the corner by the door. He barely has time to let out a groan and cup his face with his hand before I pull him to me. I cling to him, pushing him towards my safe little corner and forcing him behind me.

"Hurry Peeta!" I yell, "The mutts are coming! They're outside!" The hissing continues, sounding rough and ugly and extremely dangerous. I press us into the corner, shaking like a leaf and resisting the urge to vomit all over myself. I can hear Peeta yelling my name and he's trying to escape my hold on him, but I can't focus on that right now. All I can see in the back of my mind are the mutt's horrific faces, their reptilian bodies and pure white skin that protects them from bullets and arrows alike. I shudder in terror and press my back into Peeta, pushing him even farther into the corner and bracing myself against his resisting hands. He is _not_ getting out of this corner. I will _not_ let those evil mutts near him. Not again. My breathing becomes so rapid I'm hyperventilating, and I'm thinking that this is all just _perfect_, and _of course_ I left my bow downstairs, and where the hell is Haymitch when you need him, when Peeta suddenly grabs both of my wrists in each hand.

"Katniss stop," he says firmly, spinning us so he's pushing me into the corner. "We're okay. That noise- its just Buttercup."

"Buttercup?" I question, shaking my head. "No Peeta, you're wrong! It's a mutt!" I struggle against his hands, trying to force him back. "Get behind me!"

Peeta grits his teeth but doesn't budge. "Shhh, Katniss," he says, pulling me into his chest and leaning his forehead on mine. "I promise you, that's Buttercup. There's no mutts outside. You're safe. Come lie back down." He wraps his arms around me and presses his lips to my hair. "Come on, honey," he whispers.

He tries tugging me back to bed, but I plant my feet in the floor, whipping my head from the window to Peeta, and back again. My breathing comes in short pants and I'm sweating in fear. Why doesn't he understand the danger we're in? "Buttercup left three months ago, Peeta. Sae gave him to her granddaughter." I flinch as another hiss comes slithering in from outside, and I drag Peeta back to the corner. I shield his body with mine and close my eyes. "Be very quiet," I whisper, "Maybe they won't come in if they don't hear us."

Peeta spins me back around and grips my shoulders firmly, making moving impossible. He stares into my eyes and holds me at arms length. "Katniss," he pleads, "Calm down. You know I'll always protect you, right?" When I don't answer he squeezes his hands gently into my shoulder. "Right?"

I nod frantically and let out a strangled "Right."

He nods slowly with me, maintaining eye contact and keeping his grasp tight. "And you know I'll never stop loving you, right?"

I squirm under his grasp and say "Right," again. My eyes flash to the window, and it's all I can do not to scream out loud. What is he doing? We don't have time for this!

"And you know I'm always going to tell you the truth, right?" he insists.

"Right, Peeta!" I snap, completely exasperated. "But right now we need to-"

"So, I'm not lying to you!" He says loudly, drowning out my words with his voice. "Sae gave _me_ that damn cat, _I've_ been feeding him every day, and the poor bastard is _hungry_, so _he's _the one hissing outside your window at four o' clock in the fucking morning!" His hands drop from my body and cross over his own. He walks over and slams the window shut, effectively drowning out the noises below. Then, he finally turns around to face me, standing a foot away and looking utterly exhausted.

I stare out the window, trying to come to terms with the fact that we aren't about to die a horrible, bloody death. I walk over to it, looking down, and can barely make out the shape of the ugly tomcat pacing the lawn. My breath hitches in my throat as I realize how paranoid I've become. I turn around and face Peeta, fully prepared to vent my anger at myself onto him.

Instead, I feel my face crumple as I start to sob uncontrollably into my hands.

Peeta's here in a flash, throwing his arms around me and holding me against him tightly. "Shh, it's alright," he murmurs, lifting me effortlessly into his arms. He carries me back to bed, easing me onto the mattress and covering me with a blanket. He crosses over to his side, crawling under the covers and pulling me into his embrace. Our legs intertwine as he slips an arm under my head, his other hand turning me around so I'm sharing his pillow, my forehead pressed into his. I shake against him, crying quietly against him. "It's okay," he whispers, planting a kiss on my forehead and wiping some tears away. "It's okay, baby, I'm here."

"I'm... so...sorry!" I moan, pressing myself into his arms further. "I should have known! There's no more mutts! I should have known!" I feel my tears pick up some more as I reflect on my stupidity. "It's just that I didn't want to lose you- and I really thought there were mutts- and I was so scared- and I thought you were going to die- and I'm being paranoid- and...and..." I stop, unable to explain myself further. I think Peeta understands, because he just presses his forehead harder against mine, and holds me tighter.

"I know," he whispers, "I know." He starts humming a strange but soothing melody.

We stay wrapped in each others's arms for the next ten minutes, until I've cried myself out and he's almost asleep.

Right before he passes out I shake him out of his stupor. "Peeta?" I whisper, "Peeta?"

"Huh?" he asks, shooting upright and alert. "What?"

"That song you were humming... What was it?" I sit up and move to his lap, where his arms encircle me and pull me back to his chest. I can feel the steady flutter of his heartbeat under my ear.

He stiffens slightly underneath me at my question. Anybody but me would have missed it.

"Just a random tune." He says it too quickly.

"Peeta," I turn around and brush hair out of his eyes. "You can tell me anything."

He frowns and shakes his head. I catch his face with my hand, holding it steady and wincing when I see the bruise my foot left. I lean forehead and kiss him, then pull away. "Peeta."

He blushes and looks away. "It was just a stupid song I made up in the Capitol. It's stupid."

"Tell me about it."

He shakes his head again but I'm determined to know. "Can you sing it?"

"Katniss I-" he starts, but I interrupt him.

"Please?"

He heaves a sigh but I can feel him nod. The vibrations of his throat run against my head as he whispers, "Okay."

He's quiet for a moment, but then he launches into the most heart-wrenching song I've ever heard.

"Hello world

Hope you're listening

Forgive me if I'm young

For speaking out of turn

There's someone I've been missing

I think that they could be

The better half of me

They're in the wrong place trying to make it right

But I'm tired of justifying

So I say to you..."

He stops and clears his throat. I can tell he's crying. "Peeta..." I whisper, "You don't have to finish if you don't want to." He shakes his head and keeps going.

_Come home_

_Come home_

_Cause I've been waiting for you_

_For so long_

_For so long_

_Right now there's a war between the vanities_

_But all I see is you and me_

_The fight for you is all I've ever known_

_So come home_

_..._

_I get lost in the beauty_

_Of everything I see_

_The world ain't half as bad_

_As they paint it to be_

_If all the sons,_

_All the daughters_

_Stopped to take it in_

_Well hopefully the hate subsides and the love can begin_

_It might start now, yeah_

_Well maybe I'm just dreaming out loud_

_Until then..._

_..._

_Come home_

_Come home_

_Cause I've been waiting for you_

_For so long_

_For so long_

_Right now there's a war between the vanities_

_But all I see is you and me_

_The fight for you is all I've ever known_

_Ever known_

_So come home_

_Oh_

_..._

_Everything I can't be_

_Is everything you should be_

_And that's why I need you here_

_Everything I can't be_

_Is everything you should be_

_And that's why I need you here_

_So hear this now..._

_..._

_Come home_

_Come home_

_Cause I've been waiting for you_

_For so long_

_For so long_

_Right now there's a war between the vanities_

_But all I see is you and me_

_The fight for you is all I've ever known_

_Ever known_

_So come home_

_Come home_

_..._

I open my mouth to tell Peeta how beautiful that was. I want him to know how much I treasured it and how his deep voice sounded just like my father's when he sang. I want him to know he's been holding out on me and that I'm sure the birds outside stopped to listen.

But I can't, because I'm crying. Again.

"Peeta..." I choke out, turning around so I'm facing him. He pulls me between his legs, hugging me tightly and rocking us slowly back and forth.

"I...never thought I... would ever sing you that song," he whispers.

"I'm glad you did," I whisper back. "I'm so glad you decided to. I think that's the most accurate song I've ever heard. Ever."

Peeta sighs. "I don't think you get it Katniss. I always wanted to show that to you someday. I never thought I'd _get_ to."

Oh. _Oh_.

I tense at his words and I think he knows I understand. "I'm so sorry this happened to you Peeta. All of it. I should have been there for you. We never should have gotten separated in that damn jungle, you should never have gotten tortured, I should never have gone crazy, _you_ should never have gone crazy, and we shouldn't be in this big fucking mess." I huff in frustration, pushing off of Peeta and slamming my back against the headboard. Peeta moves back to sit next to me. He sighs tiredly and rubs a hand over his face.

"I know, Katniss. I know. But you don't have to apologize. None of this is your fault." He lifts up his hand and cups my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes. "Listen, it's almost five now. Let's just go back to sleep, alright?" I nod and fall forward to his chest. He pulls me on top of him and we get situated under the covers. "I'm tired of having these conversations all the time. They're so depressing. Later today we're going to do something fun, okay? We're going to have so much fun we're going to forget about all our problems for a little bit. We're going to laugh and smile and just feel like the kids we are. Okay?"

I smile and lean up to kiss him. "Okay," I say. I press my face to his bare chest, breathing in his scent and trying to memorize the sound of his heart. "I love you, Peeta."

He presses a kiss to my head and sighs. "I love you too."

* * *

"Oh, shit!"

I turn and roll my eyes at Peeta. He's lying on his back on the forest floor, all the breath knocked from his lungs.

"Rookie mistake," I tease, purposefully not helping him to his feet. "Rule number one of forest life: always watch where you're going. Don't let a pretty girl distract you from seeing-oh, I don't know- a _tree_?"

I smirk as Peeta gets to his feet, brushing plant debris off his shorts. "Pretty girl?" he snorts, "Somebody has a big ego."

I laugh and push him back down, pretending to scowl at his amused face. "Well somebody else has a big mouth. Looks like it overbalanced you again."

He lets out a loud laugh that sends birds fluttering away angrily. "Seriously, though," he says, pushing himself to a standing position again, "You said pretty girl? Where did you see one? 'Cause I've been looking for one all day and I still haven't had any luck." He gives me an impish grin that wipes away all the sadness I've seen in his eyes for so long. Ever since I've met him, really. I can feel my face soften but I quickly cover it all up with a scowl. I turn on my heel and storm ahead, pretending to be mad.

Within seconds he's upon me, lifting me up until my legs are straddling the back of his waist and my arms are around his neck. He jogs through the forest. I'm surprised by his strength and stamina. When did he gain all these muscles back? Do those District Thirteen exercises really work that well?

One glance at his heavily defined abdominal muscles and broad shoulders tell me that they do.

"I'm just kidding, Katniss!" he continues, oblivious to my staring. "Anyways, you can't blame me for crashing into that tree. Not when you're wearing _this_!"

I blush and look down at my ridiculous outfit. Going on a trip to the lake required bathing suits, and this was the only thing I could find in my wardrobe that would do. I don't usually wear a bathing suit at the lake, because I'm always by myself, but there's no chance in hell I'd go with Peeta in my usual swimming attire- which is nothing. I still feel vulnerable in this outfit, though. It's a two piece swimsuit that Cinna made me for a couple Capitol parties that could have involved swimming. I've never had cause to use it though. We always escaped the superfluous mansions before the hosts could get the chance to show us their pools. Cinna made the swimsuit lacy and feminine, and it too has the extra padding that was on my interview dress after the first Games. There's barely enough fabric to cover my modesty, which is amplified by the padding. The suit is a soft shade of orange, and I think this is the one outfit Cinna made me that was not made specifically for _me_, if you know what I mean. My blush grows darker as I realize that Cinna probably wanted Peeta and I together all along. The conniving bastard.

I still love him, though.

I can't seem to find a suitable reply to Peeta's latest remark. After a few stammers and huffs of indignation I give up on talking and just look at the scenery. Familiar landmarks and flowers lie burning in the late June sun, which beats down on us relentlessly. It's the only reason I couldn't bring myself to layer clothing on top of my suit.

Well... maybe I also kind of liked the way Peeta's eyes lingered when I walked past him in it. Or his hands.

I shake myself out of my reverie and point Peeta in the right direction. "You're going the wrong way."

He adjusts his course and keeps walking at a steady pace. Isn't he getting tired yet? "Aren't you going to tell me where we're going yet?" he complains in my ear.

"Nope," I reply, casually grabbing a flower hanging from a tree and placing it in my hair. It's a dark purple, exotic looking flower that you wouldn't guess advertised poisonous fruit. It's still beautiful.

We have maybe another ten minutes of walking to do before Peeta will see the lake for the first time. I kiss him behind his ear, and release my hold, sliding down his back. He drops our bag and my bow for a second, stretching his back and arm muscles. I grab my bow and try to openly ogle his bare torso. When he's done he grabs our bag and my hand, letting me lead him forward.

"I bet we're going someplace really cold," he jokes, "that's why we're wearing these clothes, right?" He motions down to his swim trunks that Portia made him. I'm not surprised to see they're leafy green.

"Right," I agree. "But that's all I'm going to tell you."

A few minutes later we're at the lake, which is enticingly blue and lush with summer colors. I hear Peeta gasp as his eyes register a place of beauty so foreign to District Twelve. The big lake laps gently against the sandy shore and I'm already itching to dive in. I look up at him and smile at his expression.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

He swallows hard and manages to tear his eyes away from the scene. He meets my gaze and steps closer. "I've seen prettier."

I blush and try to think of a witty comeback. "There you go again with the mouth," I say unsteadily. It doesn't even make much sense but it's the best I've got.

Peeta laughs softy and suddenly drops the bag. He gently pries the bow from my fingers and pushes me back against a tree. His lips find mine once, twice, then move down to my neck, which flushes bright red as he takes his time there. He pulls away and takes in my expression, to see how I want to continue. I give him my best smile and launch myself at him, knocking us both to the sandy ground.

Peeta makes sure I land on top of him as we fall. He smiles as I kiss him and work my way down to his neck. My fingers play with his hair as his run up and down my back. I laugh and say, "There it goes again, I told you it would overbalance you."

He grins and rolls us over so he's hovering over me. He kisses me softly before saying, "No, I think that was your ego. My mouth is busy, see?" He then proceeds to give me the most passionate and breathtaking kiss we've ever shared. It lasts for along time and when we finally break apart I can't help my dazzling smile. It feels like my face might break in two from its pressure.

"Peeta?" I whisper.

"Yeah?" he replies, his grin matching my own.

My next words come out barely above a murmur, but he hears me and understands.

"I've come home."

**P.S.: That song was called Come Home by onerepublic, and it's beautiful! All credit goes to them. **


	18. Chapter 18

**WARNING: READ THIS A/N BEFORE READING CHAPTER!**

**Do I have your attention? Yes? Excellent. So... I've kinda changed this fic's rating from "T" to "M" . Read at your own discretion, yada-yada-yada, you get the picture.**

**Also, I only had ONE FREAKING REVIEW for last chapter. I mean, come on guys... you can do better than that! I'm really nervous about this chapter and what you guys think so please review for me! Also, I have strep throat so your reviews help brighten my day! I love you all! :D**

**Whew... Now that that's all off my chest, here's my disclaimer:**

**Le Random Disclaimer: The only thing I own is a healthy obsession with the Hunger Games!**

I let my aching fingers take a break from ripping Katniss roots from the soil. A layer of mud has caked under my fingernails, where it will undoubtedly stay unless I wash it out now. My bare feet sink in the sand as I step over Peeta, who is snoring lightly with an arm draped over his forehead. Shortly after our hour-long swim, Peeta sprawled out on the sand and hasn't moved since. My lips form a small smile as I wash my hands in the late-afternoon sun. Peeta's promise this morning was not half-hearted. Today _was_ fun. The most fun I've had in years, actually. Peeta went out of his way all day just to ensure I had a good time. His ever present smile and twinkling blue eyes reminded me that a part of him is still the same boy I grew up with in school. Not all of him is tainted by war and pain and suffering.

It breaks my heart.

Peeta really and truly is too good for this world. I wish I could say the same about myself.

Once my hands are clean and the Katniss tubers are cut, I flop down next to Peeta. I throw my leg over his hip and pull his arm off his face to rest my head on it. I can tell he's not fully asleep because he immediately wraps his other arm around me and pulls me closer to him.

"Hi," I whisper, smiling against his skin.

"Mhm," he groans, smiling slightly.

"How long have you been awake?"

"Mhm..." he shrugs, still smiling.

"'Mhm' isn't an answer..." I tease, kissing where his neck meets his shoulder. He doesn't answer, just continues to smile. "You made me prepare dinner all by myself."

"I love your cooking..." he slurs, keeping his eyes stubbornly closed.

I laugh and shake my head. "No you don't, my cooking sucks."

"S'not true. It's good, 'specially your tomato soup."

I blush and shake my head again. "When did I last make you that?"

"Mhm..."

I sigh and kiss his neck again. "So we're back to that answer?"

"If you keep kissing me that way, we sure as hell are back to that," he yawns.

I laugh and bury my face in his neck. "Come on, you need to get up. I need you to start the fire so I can get this duck cooked in time."

He tightens his hold on me and shakes his head. "Let's just skip dinner tonight."

"Come on, Peeta..." I plead. "We only have so many hours before dark and we have to be home."

"Can't we just stay the night here?" he whines.

I roll my eyes and sigh. "Sure. Would you rather be eaten by a mountain lion or a dog pack?" I quip.

"Neither," he says. "Is bear an option?"

I laugh and shake my head against him. "Nah, they don't come around here. I keep 'em away just to spite you."

"Well, that's rude."

"Don't you know? My one purpose in life is to make your's as uncomfortable and annoying as possible," I joke.

"That sounds tiring," he murmurs, turning his head to the side so our noses are touching. I'm finally rewarded with a flash of blue irises.

"All in a day's work," I say airily. "Now, get up."

"I don't wanna," he pouts.

"Too bad," I tease. "You have to."

"No I don't," he says confidently. He rolls his head back over and closes his eyes.

"Peeta Ricky Mellark," I scold, using the middle name his brothers taught me, "You better get up, or you can kiss this delicious dinner goodbye."

"Katniss Marie Everdeen," he retorts, "Why must you insist on waking me up?" His voice carries a formal and pompous tone.

"Because it's my life's purpose, remember?" I remind him.

"Oh, right," he groans. "I knew that would come to bite me in the ass."

I sigh and try to ease out of his embrace. He senses my plan and quickly rolls over. Now I'm on my back and he's sprawled out on top of me. His heavy head rests on my chest and his legs completely pin mine to the ground. "Peeta!" I complain, "Get off!"

He doesn't answer, just reaches out his hands and grabs mine, tugging them up until my arms are keeping him on top of me. I sigh again and run my fingers up and down his bare back, letting him relax. "You have sand all over you," I say, brushing him off a little.

"That's what happens when you sleep on sand with a wet back," he murmurs, completely at ease.

"Well now it's getting on me," I complain, impatiently brushing an eager mosquito away from his back.

"Ow, what was that?" he asks when I accidentally slap him instead of the insect.

"You're attracting wildlife," I grumble, pushing him off. He lets me this time, and sits up. "Can you start the fire?"

He finally agrees and two hours later, our bellies are full of duck and mashed Katniss tubers with fresh bread. We sit together in the little house by the water. I had the foresight to bring pillows and blankets with us, but no extra clothes. I figured we'd be warm enough in bathing suits on this hot day, and wouldn't need any. The daylight's leaving, though, and we'd never make it back before dark. It's much to dangerous to walk home, so we're stuck for the night.

"Looks like we're staying!" Peeta says happily, spreading out blankets and pillows on the cement floor.

I stand up and help him, picking a blade of grass out of his hair. "Oh, joy. I love sleeping in my slutty bathing suit," I say sarcastically.

Peeta laughs and takes my hand, leading me back outside so we can watch the sun set over the water. "I love it when you do that, too." He sits down against the wall of the house, leaning his back against it while I settle myself in between his legs, resting against his chest while his arms go around me. After a while he sits up a bit so his chin can rest on my right shoulder.

"Isn't this beautiful?" I ask, looking up at the blazing horizon, where the sun takes its last breath of life before dawn. Reds, yellows, and oranges all intermingle with each other until they're replaced by the pinks and purples, which in turn leave when the blues and black show up.

"Gorgeous," he whispers, his warm breath blowing past my ear and making me shiver. "Just like you." He gently moves my curtain of hair aside and kisses my neck.

I blush and try to hide my smile. I relax further into his embrace, and twenty minutes later, the moon is reflecting off the warm lake and almost blinding our eyes. "Let's go inside," I whisper, my voice a bit raspier than normal. Peeta agrees wordlessly, letting me lead him inside and starting a fire without me asking him to. I stretch when his back is turned, nervously tugging my garments down to cover more flesh and sliding under the covers when he's done.

The bed is surprisingly comfortable for being made up of nothing but blankets. I rest my head against Peeta's chest, feeling content but also nervous for some reason. Peeta seems on edge too, his normally easy-going jokes and chatter replaced by nervous breathing. I close my eyes and try to sleep, blaming my nerves on the fact that I've only slept in this house a handful of times, with my father. I'm still awake fifteen minutes later, and I can tell Peeta is too. His thumb, which rests on my hip, is tracing small, slow circles into me. It feels really good and I find myself completely distracted by it. Every now and again Peeta presses a kiss to my head when he thinks I'm sleeping.

"Peeta?" I ask suddenly, breaking the surprisingly tense silence. At my voice, his thumb draws away and I immediately miss it.

"Yeah?" He clears his throat nervously and shifts away from me slightly.

"Do you want to... go swimming with me? Or something? ...Now?" Anything to get out of this cramped house. It's getting really stuffy and hot in here.

He makes a surprised noise in the back of his throat and sits up. "I-uh...yeah," he stammers. "Of course."

I turn and give him a smile and a kiss, trying not to visibly shake_. What is happening to me?_

The air seems to be electrically charged as Peeta pulls me to my feet. We're both still oddly silent and breathing heavily, and I can tell by the firelight that he's blushing for some reason. When he walks to the door I quickly check myself over for any embarrassing flaws.

A_re there holes in my swimsuit? _

_Is my hair a rat's nest? _

_How does Peeta feel about shaved legs? _

_Is it weird that I shaved my underarms and legs for this trip? _

_Why did I do that? _

_Why am I stressing so much? _

_Why am I so... warm?!_

I try to clear my mind as Peeta pops his head back in the door. "Katniss?" he asks, "Are you coming?" He sounds nervous. Why is he nervous? Oh, god, was I really just standing here by myself? Thinking about _leg_ hair? _What is happening?!_

_"_Yeah," I whisper, "I'm coming." I stride out the door behind him, smiling as sincerely as I can and hoping against hope my shaky legs won't betray me and give out while I'm walking by him.

He stops where the grass turns into sand and waits for me to catch up. When I finally stumble forward, his hands are in his pockets and he's staring straight ahead. The moonlight dances off his blonde curls and he looks like he's a little bit sweaty. I overshoot a foot or so and end up standing in front of him and to the right. I'm internally cursing my stupidity when I feel him move directly behind me, tentatively reaching up and pressing his hands on my shoulders. He massages them gently. "You're tense," he whispers, soft lips brushing against my ear. I close my eyes and enjoy the feeling of his hands on my body, rolling back my head when he rubs a particularly sensitive spot.

We've been outside for five minutes and we haven't made a move towards the water. The warm, fragrant air blows in my face as I suddenly feel Peeta's lips on my back. I suppress a shiver as he plants a kiss on each shoulder, the base of my neck, and the spots where my shoulders and neck meet. I involuntarily take a step backward at his touch, letting him wrap his arms around me and rest his hands on my stomach. His hands spread across my belly-button area, pressing me flush against him as he continues to kiss my flesh. Goosebumps appear all over me as he starts gently running his tongue along my neck, nipping and sucking my skin in his mouth. I gasp at the new sensation, basking in the warmth I feel. His hips, which were angled away from me, suddenly nudge my backside, letting me feel for the first time his warmth and hardness that is being covered by his swimming trunks. My knees feel weak as his mouth continues to move, and I tilt my head to the side to give him better access. When he takes my earlobe in his mouth, my stomach suddenly jerks and I feel a rush of warmth suddenly shoot straight down between my legs. I instinctively squeeze my thighs tighter together as I start to feel a little damper down there.

Peeta continues his work, his hands gently kneading into my clenched stomach. He nips at a spot behind my ear that makes me gasp. My knees feel like rubber as I slowly turn around to face Peeta. His eyes are a much darker shade of blue and look kind of hooded as they meet mine in the semi-darkness. I wrap my arms around his neck and stand on my tiptoes to kiss him. My mouth parts at the same time his does, and I timidly slip my tongue in. He meets mine enthusiastically as they start wrestling for dominance. We've only kissed like this once before, when I had just pushed him out my window and almost killed him with a butcher knife. I open my eyes and pull away, resting our foreheads together and breathing heavily.

"I love you, Peeta..." I whisper, admiring how the stars reflect off his eyes.

He leans in and gives me a sweet, chaste kiss on my lips. "I love you too, Katniss. I always will."

And that's all I needed to hear.

All at once it's like my body goes into instinct-mode. My heartbeat quickens as I dart forward and kiss Peeta's neck, allowing his hands to slide down my back and rest on my bottom, his thumbs hooking in the lacy fabric at my hips. I breathe in his distinct Peeta-scent, inhaling traces of bread, soap, cinnamon, lake-water, and the sharp, salty, familiar smell that screams _boy_ at me. I take a deep breath and attach my lips to his soft skin, sucking and nipping at him until he lets out a very animal-like growl from the back of his throat. I kiss up to his perfect jaw line, then move to his earlobe, sucking it in my mouth and making him gasp the way I did. His hips grind a little bit against me, causing me to let out a little mewl of approval.

I can hear the water lapping gently against the shore, sounding so enticing to my hot and sweaty skin. Completely going outside my usual comfort zone, I reach my hand in between Peeta and I, slipping my hand into his trunks and pulling him backwards towards me. The back of my hand rubs against soft hair as I pull towards my own groin, pressing my hand through his shorts so it's sandwiched between Peeta and I. Our suits and my hand separating us, I walk backwards until we're about waist deep in the lake. Peeta gently squeezes my bottom underwater, and I drag my hand slowly from his trunks until we're grinding together, his hands pushing me into him. We lean in for a kiss as I reach up and tear my top off, leaving my torso fully exposed to his hungry eyes. I resist the urge to cross my arms as his eyes rake over my scarred chest, wincing when I see a particularly ugly scar that glistens wet and bright under the moon.

"You're so beautiful," Peeta breaths, lifting up his hands to cup my breasts. He kneads them slowly, seemingly in awe as he takes the top from my hand and throws it to the shore. It hits the side of the house with an unattractive splat. I moan loudly as Peeta pinches my nipples, then leans down to place one in his mouth while still massaging the other. His thumb swirls the tip of one and his tongue the other as I writhe against him in pleasure. I didn't know about _this_ before.

He switches his mouth to the other side, our still-covered groins grinding and moving together underwater. Suddenly Peeta removes himself from my breasts and turns us so he's pushing me towards the shallows. He kneels in front of me, pure lust and love pouring out of his eyes. We make eye contact, and I groan as he kisses the hem of my remaining piece of fabric, then slides his tongue all the way up my stomach, chest, and neck until he reaches my mouth. We kiss and I take us back to deeper water, motioning for him to dip his head with me. We both go underwater for a second, then come bursting back up. We slick each other's hair back, pressing our chests together and twisting as we kiss, my groin beginning to absolutely throb with need.

All of my reservations are gone as I grin at Peeta and he grins back, winking at me playfully. I grin and bite my lip, swimming away from him until we're about chest deep. He catches up to me, and right before he grabs me I slip out of his grasp, sliding underwater and swimming silently to shore. He follows me, surprisingly adept at swimming despite this being his only second time in a pool of water this big. We make it to the shore, where I jump in his arms and wrap my legs around his dripping body. He kisses me roughly, and holds me close to him. My arms are around his neck and my legs are around his waist as I whisper in his ear.

"Take me inside, Peeta..."

Not needing to be told twice, Peeta carries me inside the house and lays me down gently on the blankets. Our bodies are soaking wet and glistening from the firelight. Peeta strokes my cheek and looks in my eyes for a second before leaning down and kissing my clavicle. He moves down to my chest, taking my hands and extending them up over my head. I clasp my hands and let him hold them against the floor over my head with one hand, while his other supports his weight. He sucks and nips down to my last piece of clothing, making sure I'm okay with it before he takes the fabric in his teeth and pulls it down. He removes his hand from mine and uses both of his to support his weight as he drags the bikini bottom down. His nose runs down my leg as he reaches my feet, where he rips off the offending article and throws it to the side. Another damp wave runs down my legs as Peeta takes me in for the first time. His face holds a dopey smile and an expression full of love. He meets my eyes and smiles broader. I pull him down to kiss me, laying him on his back so I can get his trunks off. I straddle his legs as I work the ties, finally managing to pull the trunks down and off his ankles. He groans in pleasure as his member is finally freed, the cool night air flowing across his tip. I just stare at it for a moment, childishly confused. How is that going to fit? There's no way. He's so _big_. I've never seen an erect penis before, and I have to admit its kind of intimidating. Peeta sighs in relief as he reaches down to stroke himself, eyeing me timidly. I push aside my fears and smile, determined to show Peeta that I love him in any way I can.

Feeling like an inexperienced fool, I reach down and stroke him gently, causing him to gasp and freeze. He tenses as I touch him, growling in pleasure as I run my finger over his tip. "Show me how," I whisper from my perch on his legs, leaning forward to kiss him. His penis twitches a little as I kiss him, causing him to groan some more.

"Just grab me like this, Katniss," he pleads, firmly rubbing himself up and down. "Get a rhythm going." I swallow my doubts and reach down to grasp his shaft tight, wrapping my fingers around his base and then rubbing up and down, occasionally rubbing my thumb along the tip. Peeta moans and bucks against my hand, causing me to smile. His penis feels like really warm flesh colored marble, surprisingly hard and heated. I grin as he starts bunching the blankets with his hands, yelling my name and bucking erratically. Suddenly he spills into my hand, shaking and ms quirking through his orgasm. I rub myself from his thighs to belly button as I roll off of him, waiting until he stops seeing stars. When he finally calms down enough, he looks at me with tears in his eyes and kiss me softly.

"I love you," we say at the same time, then laugh.

"Now, your turn," he growls, turning on his side and running his index finger from my clavicle, straight down. He kisses me gently before cupping me, letting me rub myself shamelessly against his hand. He grins as he rubs a finger up and down my folds, spreading my legs apart with his hands and then kissing the inside of my thighs. I moan as he kisses my private skin, coming back up so he can look in my eyes as he dips two fingers inside me. His thumb plays with my clitoris as I buck against him, and after I show him the movements I like, he's on a roll. Soon enough I'm screaming and yelling his name, then experiencing my very first orgasm. As the boneless feeling washes over me and I feel like flying, I pull him up to give me a very sloppy kiss.

Not long after, we're grinding together on the mess of blankets, kissing and moaning into each other's mouths. "Please," I beg of him, "Come inside me,"

Peeta smiles and nods, and together we align ourselves. He enters slowly and carefully, listening when I tell him to stop or give me a minute. It hurts at first, but soon he's fully inside me and thrusting gently. We find a pace that we both like, and for the first time in my life, Peeta Mellark has made me feel whole.

Neither of us last very long, but it was perfect nonetheless. I feel that hunger in my chest, that burning ember that has burst into flame, and for the first time since I was sixteen years old, I actually feel like I was made to be called "The Girl on Fire".


	19. Chapter 19

**This chapter is a beast, guys. A BEAST! I stayed up until two thirty on a school night making this one. I have a feeling you all will love it, like I do! Please read and review! Happy Friday!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. **

The cabin air grows colder and colder throughout the night. It's not long before our damp bodies have both Peeta and I shivering, pressing together for warmth. Its hard to describe what happened a few hours ago. I've never experienced anything like that before, obviously, and I feel really strange about it. It seems that all I can do is blink over Peeta's shoulder at the dying fire, watching it burn out and fade to ash. I've been unable to sleep most of the night, stuck in an odd stupor that has me terribly confused. I keep replaying what happened over and over again in my mind, sifting through for anything that would explain my anxiety. I remember how Peeta's skin felt under my lips, how he whispered sweet nothings in my ear as I came, all of the 'I love you's' we uttered together. My mind flashes back to the sharp pain I felt at first, and the small trickle of blood running down my legs that I tried to hide. I can still smell his sweat and feel his fingers supporting my weight as I arched my back off the ground in pleasure.

Oh, was there ever pleasure.

In school, we learn about such things, but with diagrams and videos that make everything look awkward and mechanical. Some girls read about it in dirty books, gossiping loudly about the odd positions and mind-blowing orgasms. I reflect one more time on our experience, and find that what I shared with Peeta wasn't like either of those scenarios. It was in no way mechanical and we didn't break anything or wrap each others's legs around our necks. There wasn't a lot of screaming and no weird requests. It was just me and Peeta, moving together in an instinctual, beautiful, raw, special way that will only be known to us. As it should be.

I guess what nobody can really prepare you for is the way you feel afterwards. At least, how I myself feel. Peeta seemed to have no qualms, passing out soon after with a brilliant smile on his face. An uneasy feeling has been keeping me awake, and while I don't think I regret having sex with Peeta, I have many doubts. A small part of my brain feels dirty for what I've done, wanting nothing more than to rip myself out of Peeta's arms, sprint home, and lock the door with my bow pointed at it. Another part of me is sad, feeling the loss of something I can never get back. Today, I opened up my heart to Peeta, baring the very essence of my soul to him, and successfully scared myself stupid in the process. There's no secrets between us now; he has seen and I have given him everything I have to offer. He knows me in a way no one else does or ever will. Although, to be fair, Peeta's done the same for me. Together we've thrown ourselves off the very cliff that we've been tiptoeing around for years. The very same cliff that we were almost _forced_ to jump.

My chest presses further against Peeta's as that revelation hits. I've come so close to being forced in this position, making love to Peeta because I'm told to do so, having no say in the matter. I would never have gotten the chance to fall for him on my own, choosing _together_ to move forward when _we_ felt we were ready. I wonder if they would have recorded us. It doesn't seem that unlikely, and the thought makes me sick.

"Katniss?" Peeta's quiet voice shakes me from my thoughts. I can feel his lips on my shoulder and his fingers at my waist. He pulls his head back from me, looking in my eyes. "Oh god, are you _crying_? What's wrong? Did you have a nightmare?" His hand lifts from my waist to wipe tears from my cheeks. That's strange. I had no idea I was crying. Now the tears are impossible to ignore, blurring my view of Peeta's anxious eyes. "Katniss?" I bring my hand up to my face, catching a teardrop on my finger and watching it slide off my hand through the haze. "Katniss?" I don't answer Peeta, choosing instead to close my eyes and let the tears fall. "Katniss, answer me, please!" Peeta begs, sounding panicky. He reaches for my hands but I slip them out of his grasp.

"I'm alright," I whisper, crying a little bit harder. "I'm good. Go back to sleep."

"What's going on? Why are you crying?" he breathes, cupping my face with his hands so I'm forced to look at him. "Is it because of what happened earlier?"

I shake my head and whisper "I don't know. _I don't know!"_

"Katniss..." Peeta whispers, kissing me and pulling me closer. "Come here."

My body starts shaking as I sob into his shoulder. "I don't know why I'm crying!"

Peeta keeps making shushing noises as he holds me closer. "It's okay, I'm right here. Don't worry... I've got you."

"I'm not innocent anymore," I cry, wrapping my arms around his neck. "That's gone now."

"I know," he murmurs, pulling me on top of him and drawing the covers around our shoulders. "I know, baby, I'm sorry."

"I don't want you to apologize," I say. "Please don't apologize. Just... I think I need to be alone."

I move to sit up but Peeta keeps me down. "I'll never leave you alone," he says, kissing my forehead. "_Never_. Okay?"

"Okay," I whisper, burying my face in his neck.

"Do you want me to do anything for you? Are you hungry? I think there's some food left-"

"Can you rub my back?" I say suddenly, bringing my face up to his. "I'm sore."

"Of course," he says, kissing me softly. "Turn over."

I obey and flip on my stomach, my bare chest pressed against the mess of blankets. Peeta tosses the top blanket off of us, getting up to straddle my lower back. "Where?" he asks.

"Everywhere," I say, relaxing as Peeta massages the tension from my shoulders. He moves down to the base of spine, loosening a knot that has formed. We sit in comfortable silence for about half an hour, the only noises present are our breathing and the rustle of blankets. Once my back is feeling better, I squirm under Peeta until he gets off. I crawl into his lap and pull blankets around us, kissing him on the cheek.

"Thank you," I whisper, giving him a hug.

"Any time," he smiles, pulling me down so our heads are back on the pillows. "I love you, Katniss. Think you can sleep now?"

"I love you too," I say, closing my eyes. "I think I can."

And I do.

* * *

We leave the cement house early the next morning, dragging along all of our blankets and towels. Peeta and I have been in unusually good moods today, with no talk of nightmares or episodes between us. He's also refrained about asking why I was crying last night, but now, as we walk through the front door, I feel as though that's about to change.

"I'm gonna take a shower and change into clean clothes," he says immediately, heading upstairs.

I follow him, "Me, too." We throw all of the blankets and towels in the upstairs laundry, then go inside my room. Peeta rifles through his drawer in my dresser, pulling out a pair of dark jeans and a white crew neck. He unabashedly pulls off his trunks, slipping on boxers and the jeans. He throws the shirt over his shoulder while I try to extract a yellow sundress from my overcrowded closet. After four unsuccessful attempts, I just sigh and give up. I strip off my swimsuit and throw it in a corner.

"Do you want to use this shower or my mom's?" I ask, motioning to the bathroom door. I don't mention Prim's. Peeta knows that nobody goes into her room except for me, and that's only to lay on her bed.

"Yours," he yawns, flopping on the bed and not even trying to hide the fact that he's staring at me. "I'll just wait here."

"Okay," I smile, trying not to blush as his eyes rake to my bikini zone. Ever the gentleman, he only lingers there for half a second before pulling his eyes back up to my face. I turn around and head into the bathroom, softly closing the door behind me.

I take a really long shower, letting the hot spray work all the tension from my limbs. I wash all traces of sand and lake water from my hair and skin, running my fingers over my horrendous scars. They're so ugly. I tried hiding them from Peeta last night, but he wouldn't let me. He had kissed every single one, telling me that they could never disgust him. They're beautiful, he had whispered against my skin, letting me know that they told a story. He said that I just needed to accept them as he accepted his own, understanding that they're a part of us now. I sigh as I step out of the shower and onto the drying mat. Peeta has even more scars than I do, but he seems comfortable with them. I mean, he barely ever wears a shirt in these warm months. Maybe I _should_ just accept them and move on with my life.

One look in the mirror makes that plan all shot to hell.

Grumbling, I exit the bathroom to find Peeta asleep on my bed. My yellow sundress lies beside him, meaning that he must have gotten it out of the closet for me. That was sweet. My mood softens a little as I pull it on and crawl in bed next to him. I kiss him awake, letting my tongue run across his bottom lip as his eyes flutter open. He automatically kisses me back, smiling against my lips. "Your turn," I say, moving back to sit beside him.

"I think I'd rather stay here," he yawns, pulling me back on top of him. I laugh as he kisses me then flips me over, pinning me to the bed with his legs. He moves my hair aside to kiss along my neck and jaw. "You look too good in this dress."

"I think I could be wearing a garbage sack and you'd still find me attractive," I joke, enjoying the feeling of his mouth on me. This whole sex business is rather addicting, to be honest.

"Very true," he murmurs, moving his mouth down to kiss over my heart. "But you look the best in nothing at all."

"Ha-ha," I deadpan, bringing his head up to kiss him. "Seriously, though, go take a shower. You smell like sex."

"Fine," he sighs, giving me one last kiss and walking into the bathroom. "But I can make you smell that way again if you want me to." He grins and raises his eyebrows at me, laughing and slamming the door when I throw my pillow at him. "Just saying!" he shouts happily as I sigh. Idiot.

I wait for him on the bed, letting my hair fan out on his pillow and closing my eyes. I know that we have to talk about why I was crying earlier. I don't want to tell him because I honestly don't know myself. I guess I was just overcome with emotion and had to release it somehow. I really wish he didn't have to see it, though. I stare out the window at the sunny sky until I hear the bathroom door open. I close my eyes again as Peeta walks over to me, crawling up the bed and flopping down on his pillow. "We need to talk, Katniss," he says.

"I know," I sigh, rolling over so I'm facing him. His blue eyes meet mine and I can see the worry housed inside them. I smooth out the furrow in his eyebrows with my finger and smile. "You're stressing."

"I'm worried about you," he says, catching my hand in his and holding on tight. "Why did you cry? Do you regret what we did?"

"No," I say firmly, shaking my head. "I love you, Peeta. It's just that I couldn't stop thinking about how I lost the last pure piece of myself last night. I was full of so much emotion and my brain was just running too fast. I couldn't keep up, and I started crying. It was stupid, and I'm sorry I scared you." I see some tension leave his face and I cup his cheek with my hand. "I'm so glad I trusted you, Peeta. I would never want to take what we did back. I just scared myself, is all."

"I never want you to be scared of me," he whispers, scooting closer so our foreheads are touching. "I want you to be happy. That's all I want."

"Peeta..." I whisper, kissing him gently. "I was never scared of _you_. I was scared of the intimacy between us. I'm terrified of being close to anyone because I know what it's like to lose everything. I don't want to break again. I don't think I could handle it." He opens his mouth to speak but I place my hand over it. "No. Just listen for a second. I don't have any regrets. Last night was the best night of my life, and I don't know how it was for you, but it was amazing for me. We have a stronger bond now, Peeta. And that's what I'm scared of the most. If anything happens to sever that bond, I don't think I could keep living. I love you too much for that and I hate being dependent on anybody. Especially you, since you've managed to capture my heart and piece me back together. So, now do you get why I was crying?" I rub my hand over my face, trying to block out the world before I start crying again. I wait for Peeta's answer, but it never comes.

Instead, my hand gets ripped away from my face as Peeta's lips come crashing down on mine. He pulls me underneath him and gives me a bear hug. "Last night was the best night of my life, too," he says, kissing my hair. "And don't think for a second it wasn't." He moves to my forehead. "I'm scared, Katniss. I never want you to be hurt and I'd kill anybody who'd ever want to harm you." He gently feathers over each of my eyelids. "I'd die for you," he whispers, pressing our chests closer together so I can feel the steady beat of his heart. He kisses my lips. "You're my life, and trust me when I say that your virginity wasn't the last pure part of you. I can see your purity every day when we go outside and you stare at the clouds. I can hear it when you sing to me, helping me through all of my episodes. It shows when you try to cook me breakfast, and when you drop by Haymitch's house to make sure he's eating. I can see it when you smile and pick dandelions, and when you run through the forest. When your eyes light up as you play with Sae's granddaughter or when you see the primrose bushes, I know..." he points a finger into my chest. "I know that in your heart you're the purest, smartest, most beautiful and special person I'd ever have the fortune to meet, much less make love to." He says firmly. "And I don't know what I'd do without you. I would rather die than not see your face by mine every morning when I wake up. I couldn't live through seeing your heart break again, and I count myself lucky everyday, just knowing that you're willing to call me yours. I love you, Katniss Everdeen."

My face breaks into a smile as I start to cry softly. Peeta kisses my tears away. "I love you too, Peeta Mellark," I whisper. He grins back at me and I fall forward into his chest. He sits us up until our backs are against the headboard.

"Lets go for a walk," he says suddenly, grabbing my hand and looking hopeful.

"Peeta, we just hiked for four hours," I complain, shaking my head. "I have blisters on my feet, and your leg must be killing you."

He just smiles and throws me a pair of shoes as he slips his on. "I'll make sure it's short," he promises.

I smile and let him pull me to the front door, shutting it behind us. He leads me to the front steps of his house, and points to his door. "Katniss, this is my old house. I say old because now I live wherever you are. Home is where the heart is, and I gave you mine last night." He kisses me and whispers against my confused lips. "I'll be right back." He squeezes my hand before running into his house, leaving me alone. Before I can get the chance to miss him, he's back outside, looking slightly flushed but excited. "Do you remember this place?" he asks.

"Of course," I answer, giving him a puzzled look. "Why wouldn't I?"

"No reason," he evades, pulling me down the street. We stop outside of Haymitch's house. "This is the home of a man who I consider my second father," he states, brushing a hair behind my ear. "Haymitch is the one who helped me work up the courage to announce that I loved you on live television. He gave me and helped me with the idea that saved our lives in that first arena. I have no doubt that you would have won without me, but because of him, I got the chance to spend even more time with you. Do you remember this place?"

"Yes..." I say nervously, shifting my weight to my other foot. "Do you?"

He just chuckles and kisses me. Then he starts dragging me down the street some more. I don't say anything, worried that if I do I'll ruin whatever plan he's obviously got running through his crazy brain right now. We pass the boundaries of Victor's Village, and keep going all the way to the busy square. He points to a little road that used to lead to the school. "Do you remember this place?" he questions.

"Yes," I answer, nodding my head. "But Peeta, what are you-" My voice cuts off as Peeta kisses me, completely ignoring the crowd of people walking around us.

"Where does it go?" he asks, smiling when I tell him the school. "That's right, the school. Roughly thirteen years ago, I first laid eyes on you outside the building that used to lie down that road. Your hair was in two braids instead of one, and you wore a red plaid dress. I first heard your voice in a classroom down there, and this is where I would stand everyday for eleven years, watching you and your sister hold hands and walk home." He stamps his foot on the ground and chuckles. "I was a weird kid." Before I can say anything he pulls me along until we get to a pile of rubble with a blackened apple tree behind it.

"This is where the bakery used to be," he says, pointing at the mess of rock, ash, and debris. "Do you remember it?"

"Yes," I whisper, not tearing my eyes away from his face. I think I know where this is going. He leans in and kisses me, gently laying a hand on my face.

"This is where I lived, worked, and played for the first seventeen years of my life. This is where I threw you burned bread, even though you deserved the entire contents of the damned bakery. This is where I ran after the first day of school, tripping up the steps so I could tell my father I met the girl I was going to marry. This is where I spent thinking of you. If it was still standing, I'd show you the dining room where I fell in love with you all over again. That was the day you cussed out my mom and slapped her over dinner when she called me a failure for losing my leg in the Games." He chuckles and shakes his head. "This is where you never met my brothers, although they would always beg to see you. My mom wouldn't let them after you hit her."

I smile at the memory and squeeze his hand. "She deserved it."

He laughs and pulls me along to a place where they used to sell groceries. Now all that's left is cobblestone and a newly constructed doctors office. A mother comes out with two toddlers and we stand aside to let them by. The children giggle happily down the street, holding their mother's hand and singing happy baby songs. I watch them for a moment, until Peeta's voice calls me back. "This is where Brandon Linn used to live. You know, the grocer's son? Do you remember this place?"

"Yes," I answer, letting him lean down and wrap his arms around me. He kisses me a little bit harder than before. "This is where I kicked his ass in Sophomore year, after he called you a Seam whore who had a blonde-haired, blue-eyed daughter with a filthy Seam boy named Gale." He runs a hand over his face and grins. "Man, he never saw my fist until it hit him in the eye. Unfortunately for him, Gale was selling turkey to Mr. Linn that day. He came around the side of the house and together we beat the crap out of Brandon. I got a busted lip from my mom when she heard, but it was definitely worth it."

He turns without another word and pulls me along. I move my shocked feet, glancing back at the Linn's old property. Gale never told me about that day. I wonder why? Did he know about Peeta's feelings even then?

We head to the middle of the square, in front of the old Justice Building. It's an orphanage now. "Do you remember this place?" Peeta asks me.

"Yes," I say, accepting his kiss.

"This is where I watched you volunteer for the girl who would always charm my dad out of my cookies. I watched you climb up those steps right there-" he points to them, and then at the ground to our left. "-As I moved to the front of the boys' section. I was planning on volunteering for the Games just so I could protect you. I couldn't believe my name was actually drawn. A year later, I stood here again and volunteered to go to the Quell with you."

He gives me a sad look and gives me a hug. Then he steers me throughout the district, until we stop way out by the Meadow. We reach the fence and he turns around to point at all the flowers springing out of the new graves.

"Do you remember this place?"

"Yeah," I breathe, the air hitching in my throat. I look up at him with tears in my eyes. He kisses my lips and then kisses the tears away. I wind my arms around his waist and hold tight.

"This is where I would go once a month after school and pick dandelions. I would meet up with Prim, who'd be out feeding Lady. I'd make a bouquet of dandelions for you and wildflowers for her. I'd even give her a small clover to tuck in Buttercup's collar." He smiles down at me and keeps talking. "Prim would take it all to the house that used to stand over that way." He points to the Seam. "Do you remember that house?"

I only nod, unable to speak. Prim never once told me that those flowers were from Peeta. I figured she picked them herself. The dandelions were always the brightest yellows, and the wildflowers were a gorgeous medley of all the colors of the rainbow. I swallow hard as Peeta keeps talking. "That house was where I would meet the man who sold squirrels to my father. Up until I was twelve, I would go there early Tuesday mornings, and deliver a loaf of fresh bread. The man there, named Abraham Everdeen, would always tell me a joke and tell stories all about his beautiful daughters. 'Katniss is your age,' he would tell me. 'I just know you two would get along nicely.'" Peeta's voice breaks with unshed tears as he stares over at where my old house used to be. "Then that man would hand me a new pencil or once, a sketchbook, and tell me to have a good day. He'd wink and start singing a happy song as he would walk to the mines, and I would wave after him. Tuesday's have always been my favorite day of the week." Peeta sighs and closes his eyes. "That sketchbook was beautiful and bound in leather. He never told me how he afforded it, just that I deserved it for being a good boy. He said that even though I wasn't his son, he was proud of me for never once hitting my mother back. He said that I would make a good son-in-law one day, although I never understood what he meant. I mean, I never really spoke to you in school and Prim was too young. But that's what he said, and he sounded so confident. That day he gave me the sketchbook was the day he died. The last words I said to him were: 'Have a great day, Mr. Everdeen! I promise I'll draw in this sketchbook everyday! I'll draw you a picture of your daughters, and then you can keep it, all for yourself! Bye!'" Peeta let's a few tears fall down and holds me closer to his side. "Your father smiled when I told him that. His lasts words to me were: 'You take care, son. I'm proud of you!.' I spent all day working on the drawing, and I couldn't wait to show it to him. It wasn't very good, but I was so proud. When the bells rang during school, I took the drawing with me to the mines. I waited until the last miner came out, and then I realized your dad wasn't coming out. I got Prim to take it to the funeral and place it in his empty grave."

I start crying softly as Peeta kisses me. My brain is overloaded with new information and it's all I can do to put one foot in front of the other as I follow Peeta under the fence. We walk through the woods, until I'm lost and Peeta stops at the base of a talk oak tree. The leaves are green and the soil is dark. There's a river running about six feet to my left, and I have no idea where we are. It seems as though this little corner of the forest is an ancient piece from the past that belongs in a fairy take book. Birds chirp overhead as Peeta points to the river. "That river runs underground and feeds the lake that you love. At that lake, we made love for the first time. It was wonderful, and special, and it will be forever burned in my memory. You trusted me completely in that moment, and you let me take away something very precious to you. Do you remember that lake?"

I nod and throw my arms around Peeta as he kisses me passionately. He pulls away first and takes a step back, holding out his arms at the beauty around us. I can't believe I've never been here before. I thought I knew these woods so well. "Do you remember this place?" he asks.

I shake my head and he smiles. "I thought not. When I was seven years old and my mother dislocated my knee, I had to drag crutches to your house to deliver the bread. I couldn't hold the bread with my hands, and so I had to tuck it under my chin. I limped all the way from my house to yours that way. By the time I met up with your dad, I had grown so tired I dropped the bread in a mud puddle. I started to cry, but your father just shrugged it off. 'It's alright,' he told me. 'What happened to your knee?' he had asked. I couldn't tell him, of course, but I think he knew. His lips pursed in this really thin line and he looked all angry. Before I knew it he had picked me up in his arms and brought me in to see your mom. She splinted my leg, and gave me a cast to help it heal. Your dad took the day off work and took me here. Your mom packed us a lunch and we spent all day trying to forget what my mother did. Your dad entertained me with stories and riddles, and made me promise to always tell him when my mother had hurt me. I agreed and we went home. Whenever she hurt me really bad, your dad would skip work and I would skip school, and we spent the day here. Before Haymitch, Katniss," Peeta whispers, "I thought of your dad as my second father. The last time I was here was when I was twelve years old and your father caught me staring through the living room window at you through my swollen eye. He smiled real big and stepped in front of the window. I got really scared and thought he would hit me or something. It was ridiculous, because he'd never hit me before. Instead, he just kept smiling and asked, 'You looking at my girl, boy?' I nodded and he started laughing. 'You love her?' he asked me. I bet I turned beet red as I nodded yes. That just made him laugh harder as he walked me to this place in the woods. 'Me too,' he had said.

"By the time we got here I was nearly tripping over myself in embarrassment," says Peeta. "Your dad didn't say anything else, though, and we just spent the day as we always did. He showed me how to clean game and even how to handle his bow. I was big enough to use it, and he said any boy of his can use his bow whenever he damn well please. I shot my first rabbit that day, and cleaned it up nicely. Right before we left your dad smiled all big again and clapped me on the shoulder. Then he said he was proud of me for killing that rabbit and pointed at this tree." Peeta and I both look up at the towering oak. "Your dad said, 'Well, this tree here is a pretty one, ain't it Peet?' I nodded, but I was kind of confused. 'Someday some man will come along here and propose to my oldest daughter, I reckon,' he had said," says Peeta. I hold my breath in shock as he continues. "He said it so calmly, and then kept smiling his huge smile. Then he winked at me and went home. I didn't see him again until he gave me the sketchbook." Peeta kisses me as the soft breeze ruffles his hair.

"So, it's alright if you don't remember this place, Katniss," he says, grinning at me. "You will."

Before I can do anything but stare in shock, Peeta bends down on one knee and slides a small box from his pocket. He eases it open and I stare at a simple gold band with a small pearl affixed on top. "This ring is made from your Mockingjay pin. I paid for the metal to be melted down and then reformed into this circle. This circle represents my love for you, Katniss. It has no official start or end point, and will continue for an eternity. I reused your pin to show you that change is possible. We can be born one way in life, but we don't have to stay that way. We can go from a symbol of war to one of love. This pearl was given to you by me in the Quarter Quell arena. It is beautiful, just like you." He smiles up at me. " You know, if you put enough pressure on coal dust, it can turn to pearls!" he jokes, then takes a deep breath and looks up at me with eyes full of love. "I would do anything for you. I would die, fight, or suffer for you, Katniss Everdeen. I thought this day would never come, and then I thought it would happen years from now. But I can't wait any longer. I love you more than my own life, Katniss Marie Everdeen. Would you do me the honor of spending the rest of yours with me? Will you please be my wife? I'm not asking you in front of millions, this time. There's no makeup or cameras, just you and me. And that's all I need in life."

I can't move. I can't breathe. My tears are falling in earnest as Peeta stares hopefully up at me. All of my doubts and refusals to get married from my past float to the front of my mind. But as soon as I see the tears shining in Peeta's eyes, I'm able to blink them away. They fade into the warm air and I feel a weight lift off my shoulders.

I know my answer before it falls from my parted lips. "Yes," I gasp, running into his arms. "Yes, I'll be your wife!"

Peeta laughs and spins me in the air, crashing his lips down to mine. We kiss each other's tears away only to have new ones take their place. We stand kissing for about five minutes before Peeta pulls away. He grabs my left hand and brings it up to his mouth, kissing each finger.

"Let's see if this ring fits."

He slips it on my finger effortlessly, wear I will keep it for eternity.


	20. Chapter 20

**Hi guys! Sorry about the wait- my _lovely_ parents took away my iPod for a bit, but I have it back now! I hope you all know that I absolutely LOVE this site, and I have plans for several more stories. However, I think YOU ALL should decide which story I should do next. Here are some ideas I have so far: Gale's P.O.V of all three books, Peeta's point of view of all three books, a modern day AU Everlark, and anything else you guys want. So PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE read this A/N and let me know what you guys want! Thank you!**

**Disclaimer: I own squat**

Peeta and I stumble home in a blaze of happiness. We never once let go of each other's hands, holding on as tightly as we dare. We steal kisses from each other as we walk. Anyone can see the vitality shining out of our eyes, so different from the lifeless shells we were just a few weeks ago. We burst through my front door, slamming it closed and locking it behind us. The late afternoon light shines through the windows.

"I can't believe this," Peeta grins, sunlight playing on his face. It enhances the sparkle in his eyes and the flush on his cheeks. I stand on my tiptoes and pull his face down, capturing his lips in a kiss.

"Me neither," I agree. "This is the happiest I think I've ever been."

Peeta smiles wider and pushes me back against the door. His arms go out to either side of me, making moving impossible. I stand flush with the wall as he leans into me, kissing from my collarbone up to my mouth. My tongue traces his bottom lip as I wrap my arms around his neck. He hitches my legs up, allowing me to weave my legs around his torso. He holds me in his arms, supporting all of my weight as my feet leave the ground.

"Let's go upstairs," I whisper in his ear, brushing my lips against it. He shivers and I bury my face in his smooth neck. We take our time on the stairs, stopping occasionally when our lips distract us. By the time we close my bedroom door, we are covered in a light sheen of sweat. Peeta sets me down and for a moment we just stare at each other.

"I'm gonna be your wife," I whisper, breaking the silence.

"I'm gonna be your husband," Peeta whispers back, taking a step towards me. We keep staring in each other's eyes as I take another step closer. His eyes shine with love and crinkle when his smile widens. I look away and bring my hand down to my dress, unzipping it from the back. I can't get the last few inches and I need Peeta's help.

"Unzip me?" I ask.

He nods and closes the distance between us. I turn around and let him slide the dress off my body. It falls to the floor, leaving my chest exposed. Peeta's eyes hungrily take in the sight as I fumble with the button on his pants. Once we're both finally undressed, he carries me to the bed and sets me on my back, I smile as his hands roam all over, then settle at my waist. We kiss and I roll over so I'm on top. Peeta looks up at me, then takes my left hand and brings it up to his mouth. He kisses my ring softly and closes his eyes. "I can't believe you said yes."

I lay down on top of him, and plant a kiss to his neck. "Why wouldn't I?" I ask, winding our legs together.

"Because I don't deserve you," Peeta says seriously, looking into my eyes.

"I could live a thousand lifetimes and not deserve you, Peeta," I say, enjoying the feeling of his hands running lightly up and down my back. "More, probably," I say after a moment.

Peeta snorts and kisses me hard. "Yeah right," he scoffs, our noses bumping together. "I think you've got our situations reversed."

I shake my head in exasperation and let him kiss me again. I try to pour all of my feelings into this kiss. All of my love and hopes, my comfort and dependence. Even some of my doubts and fears get thrown in, because I know Peeta will know how to handle them. He always knows how to.

Peeta pulls away first and I'm shocked to see he's crying softly. What happened to our post-engagement bliss? All of my good feelings fly out the window when I see the tears etch down his face. I can tell he's ashamed of them because he wipes them away quickly and won't look in my eyes. My heart breaks a little as I roll off of him and lay down beside him. "Hey," I whisper, cupping his face with my palm so he's forced to look at me. "I didn't think I was that bad of a kisser."

He attempts a smile but it falls short and doesn't reach his eyes. "I lost my mind, Katniss," he whispers, running a hand through his hair. His eyes flood with despair and it scares me.

"Yeah, but you found it again," I reply, reaching down to cover us up with my favorite blanket. I snuggle closer to his side, glad to feel his arms wrap around me.

"I'm finding pieces of it," he corrects, turning his face away from mine. "But I don't think I'll ever find it intact."

I try not to cry with him when I hear the hopelessness in his voice. It rings throughout every word.

"Then let me help you," I say, kissing him softly. Soon he stops crying and the only noises in our bedroom are the soft pucker of lips, the rustling of sheets, and promises of a better tomorrow. For a moment we're just another young, confused, recklessly-in-love couple in their bed, enjoying a moment of clarity. And a few minutes a night is plenty enough, I think.

* * *

"Dr. Aurelius?" I ask shakily, pressing the receiver further into my ear. "Hello? Hello?"

"Katniss?" The old man's voice questions through the telephone. "Is that you?"

"Yes," I breathe, feeling relief for the first time upon hearing this man's voice. "It's me."

"To what do I owe this pleasure Miss Everdeen?" the psychiatrist says pleasantly. "How are you doing?" He completely glosses over the fact that I've ignored his calls every week for the past six months.

"I'm good," I say quietly, my eyes darting around the first floor study. "But it's Peeta I'm calling about. I'm worried about him."

"In what way?" Dr. Aurelius asks, keeping his voice friendly.

"He's acting... strange," I get out, trying to find the right words. "Really strange."

"Go on," he says, waiting for more.

"Well, for the past three weeks he's been really moody. He cries a lot and he keeps saying that he doesn't deserve me. I've also seen him cutting his wrists with his fingernails again, and he disappears in his studio for hours on end. He's actually in there right now- and he has been for the past six hours."

"Hmmm," the doctor says, and I can just picture him stroking his stupid little beard. "Did anything... unusual happen? Can you remember that far back?"

"Yes," I nod in the receiver. "Peeta and I... We got engaged. For real this time. When we got home we went up to my room and...um..."

"Had sex?" Dr. Aurelius suggests helpfully. I can practically feel the flames inside my cheeks.

"No!" I say quickly. "Well, uh, kind of... We were going to, and... um, well we did, I guess, but we didn't at first..." I stammer stupidly.

"Just tell me what happened, Katniss," Aurelius soothes.

"Well, we were... um, doing that, I mean," I continue incoherently, "But then Peeta started crying before we could really start, you know..." I clear my throat nervously. "He said he lost his mind and didn't deserve me, Dr. Aurelius," I explain. "He said he doesn't think he'll ever find his mind intact ever again. So I kissed him and told him that I could help him, and then we... um, you know." I stop talking.

"Sexual intercourse is a perfectly natural thing, Katniss," Aurelius assures me. "You don't have to be embarrassed about it. Why don't you tell me more about your engagement. Did Peeta propose to you? How did he do it? Did he look depressed or happy?"

"He proposed to me," I answer. "He took me around town to places that were significant to our relationship, and asked if I remembered them. When I said yes, he'd kiss me, give a short little speech, and move on. He revealed all this stuff about his past that I had no idea about, even though it directly affected me. He mentioned my father and took me to this place that apparently was my father's and Peeta's spot. I've never been there before. When he asked if I remembered it, I shook my head and he smiled. He told me that I will remember it, and then got down on one knee..." I pause, overcome with emotion. I wish that Peeta was here right now. I have no idea what happened that night, but something made him regress into the boy that ran from me and left blood all over my sheets. Only this time, he's not getting over it in a day. The memory our engagement night pops into my head.

_Peeta and I lay naked in my bed, consummating our engagement. Our pace is slow and loving, and I'm so happy I got Peeta to stop crying. He hates crying in front of me, and to be honest, I hate that too. I've seen the old Peeta cry, but the new version of him is absolutely heart-breaking when he weeps. His tears are always endless and he's so guilty about them. He starts saying that everything is his fault, despite the fact that Nothing could be further from the truth. That's why I'm so surprised and thankful that I could calm him down earlier._

_"I love you so much," he groans as he pulls almost completely out and then thrusts back in. My hands hold tight to his as we're joined as one. This experience is much more comfortable than the time at the lake, mainly because we're on the soft bed instead of the cement._

_"I love you more," I say, feeling the pressure build in my stomach. "For an eternity," I gasp as I come. Peeta trails his hands from mine and down my body, laying them flat on my stomach as he grins._

_"You feel so good," he says, kissing up my stomach. My muscles tighten against him as he moans. Two seconds later he's thrusting erratically and hard, all slowness forgotten. When he comes not long after, I smile and reach up to twirl the hair at the nape of his neck with my fingers. He collapses on my chest as the ecstasy washes over him._

_Once we're finally ready for bed I slip on a pair of his boxers and a t-shirt, cuddling up next to his warmth. His arms encircle me as we sink into sleep, and he kisses my head._

_"Goodnight, baby," he says, yawning against my hair._

_"I love you," are the only words I can get out._

Everything seemed so perfect that night. I wish Peeta would just tell me what went wrong...

"Katniss?" Dr. Aurelius says slowly. "Are you still there?"

I shake out of my reverie with a jolt. I completely forgot I was on the phone.

"Yes," I say hastily. "Sorry- I zoned out for a second."

Dr. Aurelius is silent for a moment. "Do you do that a lot?" he finally asks.

"Zone out?" I clarify, "Not much anymore. I used to, but then I stopped about a month and a half ago."

"Did anything positive happen during that time?" Aurelius questions.

I think for a moment. "Well, that's about the time when Peeta and I got together," I say.

"Hmmm. Interesting," he says. "Do you think there's a correlation between your recovery and Peeta?"

I sigh angrily. "Of course there is," I say loudly. "I know that by now. But my recovery isn't what I called about. I called about Peeta. I'm scared for him."

"I know, Katniss," he says calmly. "But keep in mind that I'm both Peeta's and your therapist. It's my job to ensure your well-being also." I roll my eyes. Who should be caring about me right now?

"Listen," I say impatiently. "All I know is Peeta is hiding in his art studio, and the only thing keeping me from marching in there and demanding to know why is the hope that you can help us. Can you do that? Because if you can't, I might as well hang up now."

The head doctor sighs. "I can help you both, Katniss. I'm simply trying to see how you've been holding up. Tell me, have you been suffering from anymore hallucinations or paranoia recently?"

I roll my eyes and hang up the phone with a crash. It slams against the receiver as I stalk out my front door. I don't have time for this. Peeta needs my help, and I'll be damned if some stupid, Capitol-spawned, fat bastard is going to bullshit me around. Who knows what Peeta could be doing to himself? Every second I spend talking on the phone to that phony is another second without Peeta. And I can't take it anymore.

I need my fiancée back.

I'm afraid to go up to his studio alone. I threw up the last time I was there, and I can only guess as to what new horrors Peeta has added to the collection. So, like the coward I am, I make my feet carry me to Haymitch's house. He surprised me by actually answering the door when I knock.

"What?" he says immediately, a sour frown on his face.

"I need your help," I say.

Haymitch rubs his hands over his eyes. "If you want me to add anything else to that fucking memory book, I swear to God I'll set it on fire and dance on the ashes. I'm not reliving any more Games for your therapy sessions."

He crosses his arms and I realize he's expecting me to speak. For some reason, my brain is acting much slower than normal. I shake my head to clear it and Haymitch gives me a weird look. I ignore it and explain myself to him.

"Peeta's somewhere in his house doing who-knows-what, and ever since three weeks ago, he's been hiding in his art studio," I say, "He won't let me in, and he won't come out until really late at night. He's already been in there for six hours, and it's only noon! I'm afraid he's hurting himself and he won't talk to me, Haymitch!" I cry. "Please, come with me to his house! I need to know what's happening!"

Haymitch harrumphs and pushes past me on to the sidewalk, slamming his door. "Why didn't you get me sooner?" he demands, motioning me forward. We practically run to Peeta's house, but stop outside the front door. "What makes you think you're the only one around here who can take care of him? I knew it was a mistake when I let you fire Sae! You're nowhere near ready to take care of yourself, let alone the boy!"

"He's my fiancée!" I say heatedly. "I love him!"

Haymitch's eyes fly to my hand, taking in the sight of my ring. They widen, and he throws his hands in the air. "Jesus Christ! You kids don't tell me anything anymore..."

He turns away and opens the door, walking up the stairs without a second glance. I follow close behind, nearly stepping on his toes. Haymitch immediately flings open random doors, calling Peeta's name.

"This one," I say, crossing over to the studio. I hide behind Haymitch's back as he turns the knob. It doesn't budge.

"The idiot locked it," Haymitch says, looking at me. "What do I do?"

Instead of answering, I simply shout through the door. "Peeta!" I yell, pounding on the wood with my fist. "Unlock the door!" No answer. "Peeta!"

"Katniss..." Haymitch whispers, his voice uncharacteristically cracking. "Look..." He points to the crack under the door, and I completely lose my head. Trickling slowly down the hardwood and under my bare feet is a thin stream of red.

"PEETA MELLARK!" I scream, tears filling my vision. "OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!"

Haymitch hastily pushes me out of the way and kicks at the door near the handle. The wood splinters but doesn't break. He takes a step back, breathes deeply, and kicks it again. It flies open with a deafening bang. Before Haymitch can stop me, I run through the door, slipping on the crimson stream.

My breath hitches in my throat as I take in the sight of Peeta's treasured studio. It's a wreck, with all of his paints tipped over, and the paintings shredded. There are several fist-shaped holes in the wall. I can hear Haymitch swear under his breath as he comes in behind me. There's still no sign of Peeta. "We need to find him," I say in a flat voice. "Now."

Haymitch and I follow the trail of blood that has seeped under the door. It leads about five feet inside the room, behind a pile of destroyed wooden easels. They're covered in a tarp. I throw it all aside, sending them to the floor with a crash. Looking down, I immediately start weeping, flinging myself to the ground.

I've found Peeta.

"FUCK!" Haymitch screams, dropping besides me. His hands fly to Peeta's neck, taking his pulse. His eyes stare at Peeta's blue lips and then the knife sticking out of his stomach. "NO! PEETA!"

I sob and stare in shock at Peeta's hand, clutched around the knife handle. I grab his other hand, and press it against my lips. He's still warm. And clutching a note. I shove the paper in my pocket and turn to Haymitch. "HAYMITCH!" I scream, shaking his shoulders. "GO TO TOWN NOW! GET THE DOCTOR!"

Haymitch nods frantically. He's out the door in a flash, practically jumping the entire staircase. I can hear him burst through the front door, and two seconds later there's nothing but silence.

I'm alone.

I sob and apply pressure to his wound, using Peeta's clean-up towels to soak up the blood. My hands press harder into the knife, and Peeta groans. His eyes flutter open, and I practically sing with relief. He's not dead.

"Peeta!" I yell, staring in his eyes. "Stay with me! Please, Peeta! Don't leave!" I have to switch out the towels- they're already soaked. Peeta's eyes roll back in his head and he closes them, weakly squeezing my fingers. I frantically search through the debris for more towels, and I luck out when I find some by Peeta's head. I'm not sure if it's my imagination, but I think his bleeding is speeding up.

My tears blind me and I wipe them away as I look around the room. It's completely trashed. My eyes focus on an intact painting by Peeta's feet. I've never seen it before. It's a picture of a human eye, and it takes up a whole canvas. The iris is bright blue and could only belong to Peeta. In a sloppy print, Peeta has written a message over the painting in crimson red.

It's where my demons hide.

I gasp and look away. My eyes train on the wall, where several more messages are written.

With the beast inside, there's nowhere we can hide.

This is my kingdom come.

I can't escape this now.

My wailing grows louder as I shut my eyes, rocking back and forth. I can't look at this room anymore. I feel the blood run over my fingers as I hear footsteps and voices on the stairs.

"In here!" says Hatmitch's raspy voice.

Feet pound to my side and I look up. Two young, calm-looking men are holding a stretcher between them. Two more of them- a redhead and a brunette- bend down to Peeta and lift him on the stretcher. They push me along as we fly down the stairs and into the front yard, Haymitch hot on our heels.

"Let's go, Miss Everdeen!" they shout, pushing me inside a black hovercraft. "We need to get him out of here! We'll do our best to help, okay? You just stay calm!"

The door slams behind Haymitch and all of a sudden we're up in the air. I'm forced to let go of Peeta as they swarm around him, ripping off his shirt and blocking my view. I punch one paramedic in the face, trying to fight my way back to Peeta. Haymitch holds me back and gets the full brunt of my fist against his jaw.

"LET ME GO!" I scream, clawing at his face. He just holds on tighter. "Where are we taking him?!"

"He needs the best help possible!" A paramedic yells, throwing Peeta's shirt to the floor. It lands on the man I punched and apparently knocked out. He groans feebly and the second paramedic turns back to the stretcher. I catch a glimpse of Peeta's face and I immediately stop fighting. Instead, I sob harder and throw my arms around Haymitch. He returns the hug and says nothing. After a second I let go and stumble over to the window, watching my home disappear from below me.

"We have to go to the Capitol!" A third man says over his shoulder.

And with that last word, my frazzled mind blissfully falls back into a shuddering sea of inky black darkness.

Beep...

The world around me is blurred as I struggle to open my eyes.

Beep...

What is that sound? Did Peeta forget to turn off the alarm?

Beep...

Somebody turn it off...

Beep... Beep... Beep...

This is annoying. I breathe out a sigh and am surprised when a sharp pain shoots through my skull. My eyes fly open and all of the memories come flooding back to me.

Peeta! Is he alive?!

I look around and see that I'm in a colorful, small, private hospital room. I'm all alone. My hands move to my aching head, and I encounter bandages. I close my eyes again and count to ten, using Dr. Aurelius' method of holding off panic attacks. Before I can get to seven, the door to the room flies open and a young woman steps in.

The woman is young, probably only twenty-two or so. She has straight golden hair that falls midway down her back, and beautiful blue eyes. Her red lips aren't painted on, and I can't help smiling when I see her in a doctor's uniform.

"Hi... Prim..." I gasp, surprised by the hoarseness of my throat. I tear up and reach for my baby sister, untangling my hands from the sheets.

Prim's face softens and she reaches down to hold both my hands. She studied my face as I break out in a smile. "I'm...never... letting go... again..." I breathe, trying to sit up.

"Katniss," Prim speaks for the first time. Her voice is soft but strong, and has a soothing quality to it. "Take a deep breath, okay?" She lets go of my hands and reaches in her pocket for a small flashlight, shining it in my eyes. She leans over me and studies my pupils. Finally she let's go, pulling away to sit on the plastic visitor's chair. "Katniss," she says cautiously, placing her hands in her lap. "I'm not your sister. My name is Hannah, and I'm your doctor."

My brain stops working for a moment. I choke on the air in my throat, and look at the silver name-tag gleaming on her chest. Dr. Quillan, it says.

The pain of losing my sister hits me with the force of a nuclear bomb, but I push it away and swallow hard. My mind is back on Peeta and getting answers. I cover up my craziness with a nod.

"Oh... um, right," I say, trying not to look like my world has been taken away from me again. "Of course you're not her... Dr... Quillan?" My tongue struggles with the pronunciation of her last name.

"Quillan," she gently corrects. "Pronounce it like Kwill and un. Quillan."

I pronounce it and she smiles. "Awesome," she says, but quickly turns serious. "I assume you want to know what happened to you, correct?"

I nod painfully. "Peeta first," I rasp.

She smiles and hands me a cup of water, then launches into the story. "As I'm sure you remember, Peeta tried to commit suicide yesterday afternoon." I choke on my water and she helps me recover. I hate that word.

"Haymitch left you to get help, and then you three plus paramedics all left for the Capitol to save Peeta's life."

I nod again. I remember this.

"On the way there, you apparently passed out. When you fell, you slammed your head on the railing by the hovercraft window, and have been in a coma for about twenty-six hours. While you were out, Peeta's situation worsened, and the hovercraft was forced to stop in District Four for an emergency landing. You're at our hospital now. Peeta was taken into surgery. He's in stable condition now, but he's nowhere near out of the woods yet. Your mentor is sitting by Peeta's side in the ICU," she takes a breath and looks deep in my eyes. "In all homesty," she continues, "Peeta could go either way with this. We've put him in a medically-induced coma for now. You'll be able to see him soon, providing you're feeling well enough."

"What's wrong with me?" I say, struggling to get out of bed. She pushes me back down. "Why can't I see Peeta?"

Dr. Quillan sighs and shakes her head. "I'm really sorry Katniss," she says. "But we don't know exactly what's wrong with you. My guess is a mild concussion. Without an X-ray we can't be sure."

I don't understand. "Then just give me an X-ray!" I cry. I want to see Peeta as soon as possible.

Her brow furrows in confusion and she quickly says, "You do realize that we're unable to X-ray you, right?"

"Why not?" I say impatiently. I'm tired of these games. "Just tell me!" I move to get up again but she pushes me down.

"Alright, alright, just relax," she says. "You need to rest," I give her a look and she sighs, crossing her arms over her chest. "Katniss, we can't X-ray you because you're pregnant."


	21. Chapter 21

**Hello everyone! Long time, no see! Before you read, I'd just like to say I'm really sorry about the wait on this one. I've just been so busy in the past month! First I had over seven projects due in school, and each one with worth like 80% of my final grade. Then my sister had a baby during my first official day of summer, and then two days later was my birthday, and then just this past Saturday my nephew turned 3! Also during all this time I've been helping my sister-in-law plan her wedding with my brother. So I guess you can say I've been a bit busy! This chapter is a lot shorter than the others because I've been feeling really guilty about not updating, and so I figured this was better than nothing!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of this story, although I do own a rather nice fedora.**

**P.S.: I just signed myself up on tumblr at: everyday-im-muggleing if you guys want to follow me. I'll put up posts about this story and future ones, so if you want to follow me, I'll follow right back. :) Just keep in mind it's all still new to me so if my blog looks weird, that's why. :)**

_"You're pregnant."_

The words swim around in my head, but fail to make sense. How can I be _pregnant_? How can _I_ be pregnant?!

"What?" I say stupidly, staring at the doctor's face. "What?!"

"You're pregnant, Katniss," she says calmly, trying for a smile. "At least, that's what the hCG levels in your blood say. I still want you to have an ultrasound, just so we can see how far along you are."

I merely blink at her.

"It's okay to be scared," she says softly, grabbing my hands. I pull them away. "Do you want me to ask Haymitch to come in here? Seeing a familiar face might help you feel better." She looks at me some more. "Don't worry, Mr. Abernathy already knows about the baby. He's the one who suggested we test you for pregnancy before we gave you an x-ray."

I can't speak. Only stare.

"I'll get both him and the ultrasound equipment," she offers, getting up and walking towards the door. Right after she leaves she pokes her head back in. "Congratulations, if it means anything," The door closes with a quiet click.

My eyes bore into the wooden paneling on the wall as I try to get my brain to focus. I start by making the old, tedious list in my head of everything I know about myself.

_My name is Katniss Everdeen._

_I am in a District 4 hospital. _

_I am eighteen years old._

_I survived a war. _

_Prim did not. _

_I used to have a family, but they're all gone now. _

_Peeta Mellark is my new family._

_I am going to marry him. _

_He's most likely dead. _

_I'm most likely pregnant. _

_Peeta doesn't even know. _

_I don't want a child. _

Once the list grows to be too depressing, I stop. My hands travel to the place where Peeta's baby would be. I press down on the scarred skin, trying to see if anything's there. I can't feel anything. For some stupid reason I start crying, and I have to remove my hands from my stomach in order to wipe tears away. The flow doesn't stop, and in a matter of seconds I'm bawling my eyes out. The starchy sheets rustle as I bring my knees up to rest my head on. I don't want to have to think about a baby right now. I don't want to think about myself or my aching head. All I want to think about is Peeta and the way we're going to drag ourselves out of the hellhole that is our life. _If_ he's still alive.

I know the doctor said that he's stable for now, but I don't believe her for a second. I've made a habit of not believing anybody in a white coat and plastic gloves. Those people tend to lie to me if they think it'll make me feel better. I _know_ that Peeta has finally left the world that was never good enough for him. He's left me here with all of the broken promises we've made each other, the ones I was foolish enough to believe. I don't care if there's a baby inside me or not; as soon as I get out of this hospital, I'm following him.

"Katniss?" the door opens and a haggard Haymitch steps in. He sees me and releases a huff of relief, flopping down on the plastic chair beside my bed. His foot holds open the door as Dr. Quillan marches in with the ultrasound things.

I turn to Haymitch and try to stop my tears. "You look like hell," I say thickly, looking at his unwashed hair, wrinkled clothes, and waxy skin.

"Haven't I been there enough?" he shoots back. His face softens when I try to hide my tears, and he looks away. The doctor hands me a tissue and a huge bottle of water.

"A swollen bladder makes everything easier to see on the screen," she explains, "So drink this and I'll be able to give you an ultrasound in about an hour. You'll be able to see Peeta after that. You just need to rest for now, alright?" She smiles and turns to Haymitch. "Don't let her get out of bed," she orders. He nods and without another word, her blonde head is bobbing out of sight. Haymitch kicks the door shut.

"I've been sitting with Peeta," he says quietly. I nod and shakily drink some water. My tears won't stop and they roll steadily down my cheeks. I brush them away before Haymitch can see, even though I know he saw them already.

"He's pretty fucked up," Haymitch says bluntly. His eyes scan the room and he runs a hand through his greasy hair.

"He's going to die if he's not dead already," I choke out.

Haymitch sighs and turns to look at me. "Have some hope, okay?"

"Why? There's no hope left."

"True," he nods, "But if anyone around here gets to be cynical, it's me."

"Just shut up, Haymitch," I say tiredly, pawing at my eyes.

Haymitch rolls his eyes and rests his chin on his hand. "Drink your water."

"I'm not thirsty."

"Too bad. Do it anyway," he orders.

"I've already had some."

"Drink more."

"No!" I say angrily, childishly throwing the bottle to the end of my bed. My grief turns to unexplained rage.

"Yes!" Haymitch snarls, getting up and pushing the water into my chest. I glare at him, but he's glaring right back.

"You're not my father! You can't tell me what to do!" I yell.

"I might as well be!" he growls. He shoves the water bottle back in my hands and stares me down. Other than Peeta, Haymitch is the only person who has ever succeeded at doing this. I give him an icy scowl as I take a drink. He just shakes his head at me. "Someone has to take care of you and this baby while Peeta's out of commission, alright?" he says. He motions for me to keep drinking and I surprise both of us by obeying.

"I'm _not_ pregnant," I say stonily. I simply just can't accept the fact that I might be carrying a child.

"You don't know that for sure," he retorts.

"Yes, I do," I say stubbornly. I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand until I'm finally dry.

Haymitch barks out an empty laugh. "So you're telling me that in the two years you've been in love with this boy, even when you got _engaged, _you two have never...?"

"Haymitch!" I shout, completely mortified. My head throbs as I bury my face in my hands. "That is _so_ not your business!"

"Well, how else can you be absolutely sure?" he replies, enjoying my embarrassment. The stress of our situation is still so great that he quickly sobers up, though. "Listen, sweetheart," he says seriously, "I don't know if you're pregnant or not, but my gut is telling me you are. And all I really know is that there's a boy waiting for you in the other room, fighting for his life. We both can imagine the reasons why Peeta tried killing himself, but I guarantee you that somewhere in the fucked up mess that is his brain, his old self is trying to re-emerge. All I want to do is help give him something to come back to. A reason to live. And if a young wife and a newborn of his own isn't something to live for, I don't know what is."

I don't say anything to Haymitch at first. Is this really what he wants? To give Peeta something to live for? What makes him think Peeta's going to get through this? What makes him think _I'll_ get through this? I still have half-a-mind to kill myself as soon as I leave this hospital. Any world is better than the world we live in.

"I'm scared, Haymitch," I say quietly, feeling like a lost little girl. Tears well up in my eyes again as I look at the second and last member of my adopted family. "I can't make it through if Peeta dies on me. I just _can't_. I'll turn into my mother. I'll stop living. And if there really is a baby inside me, it will have to grow up with a mom who abandoned it before it was even born! How can I do that to another living thing, Haymitch?! How?! This is why I've never wanted to fall in love. Ever. Nothing is worth the pain of having to lose that person. If Peeta dies... Haymitch, I think I would probably kill myself, too." My tears finally spill over and for the second time today, I'm wailing like a baby with my knees supporting my head. I feel the bed creak as Haymitch sits down beside me. His arm wraps around my shoulder and he lets me cry against his chest. The gesture, while welcome, is also surprising. Haymitch never usually acts like this. He's actually being... _fatherly_. Desperate times call for desperate measures, I suppose.

"Shhh, just relax, sweetheart," he soothes, holding me tighter. "I know. I know."

"Why is my life so terrible?" I ask, practically glueing myself onto him. "I don't even want to live anymore."

"Shhh," he repeats, and I can hear the pain in his voice. "I don't want to hear you talking like that, alright? Just breathe," he orders. "This is what's going to happen. Are you listening? Peeta is going to be fine. You are going to be fine. This little baby is going to be fine, and it's going to grow up with two parents who will never abandon it, _ever, _or this old man will cheerfully kick their asses. In a few weeks, all four of us will leave the hospital and go home. You're going to get all fat and ugly, while I will be free to raid Ripper's old stash and get as drunk off my ass as I possibly can. Got it?" _  
_

I actually smile a little through my tears and give Haymitch a hug. "Yeah," I whisper shakily.

"Good," he replies, pulling away. "Dr. Blondie won't be back for another forty-five minutes. You should probably go back to sleep. I'll be in the chair, okay?" he slides off the bed and helps me under the covers. I feel like I'm eight years old again.

"Goodnight," I say as Haymitch flips off the lights. He grunts and leans back in the chair with a sigh. His left hand rests on the armrest closest to me. I grab it on an impulse, clenching it tightly in my right hand. "Thank you, Haymitch," I whisper, right before I fall into a restless sleep.


	22. Chapter 22

**Hi everyone! I'm going to start this off by saying that I'm so sorry about the delay, but I have good reason to be late this time. It's been kind of rough for my family recently, and I don't really feel like sharing why on here, but if you really do want to find out why it's been hard to update, feel free to PM me. Also, please please PLEASE review for this chapter. I'd really like some feedback. :)**

**P.S.: Come chat with me on tumblr! The username is: everyday-im-muggleing **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. NOTHING!**

"Okay, Katniss," Dr. Quillan says softly, shaking a plastic tube over my belly. "I'll be putting the gel on you now. It can feel rather cold, so just keep that in mind, alright?"

"Alright," I whisper groggily, rubbing sleep from my eyes. The first drop of the strange substance touches my bare skin and I jump. It _is _cold. I look at Haymitch for reassurance, and he nods at me from his spot by my side. _Peeta's spot_.

More of the blue gel lands on my stomach and I have to mentally remind myself not to stir. Dr. Quillan types some things into her computer, and all of a sudden the tv hanging on the opposite wall flickers to life. The screen remains black, but little white numbers and words border the edge of it. I only recognize two of them. _MELLARK, KATNISS _is written on the top, next to the date and time. It's the first time I've ever seen my future name written out, and for some reason I feel the need to correct it. _  
_

"Everdeen," I say to the doctor.

"What?" she replies, keeping her eyes on her keyboard.

"My name." I say. "It's Katniss Everdeen, not Katniss Mellark."

"Oh." Dr. Quillan turns to look me in the eyes, blushing slightly. "I'm sorry, Katniss. I just figured... I mean because of the ring... And the interviews..." she stumbles over her words, already trying to fix her mistake. "I'll put it right."

"No that's fine," I say quickly, reaching out until my fingers close around her wrist. "Leave it. It'll be Mellark soon enough anyways."

I let go of her and she smiles sheepishly. "Okay, then." She turns back to her work, and even more incomprehensible numbers appear on the tv. I turn my head to look at Haymitch. He's giving me a questioning look, but I just shrug at him and he returns to gazing morosely at the ground.

After a few minutes, Dr. Quillan straightens her back and grabs a weirdly shaped piece of plastic attached to the ultrasound machine. "This is the transducer," she says, flipping switches on the ultrasound machine until it turns on. The noise is unnatural and it scares me. I lean closer to Haymitch, who places a soothing hand on my shoulder. "I'll be moving it over your stomach and uterine area, and hopefully we'll be able to get a glimpse of your baby," she says brightly, adjusting the towel tucked in the waistband of my pants. I nod faintly, all of a sudden feeling like I'm going to pass out. This is it. The moment where I find out if I really am pregnant. I swallow hard and look at the tv screen, which is still black.

"Ready?" the doctor asks, holding up the weird plastic thing whose name I've already forgotten.

"Yes," I breathe, biting my lip. I unconsciously tense and sit up on my elbows. Dr. Quillan gently pushes me back down.

"Stay on your back, please," she reminds me. I unwillingly sink back down, glancing worriedly at Haymitch. This is pathetic. I'm already panicking and the stupid plastic thing hasn't even touched me yet. He removes his hand from my shoulder and slips it into my own clammy one. He gives my fingers a reassuring squeeze and nods at the doctor, who wastes no time in starting the ultrasound.

I gulp when the plastic touches my skin. Dr. Quillan moves it expertly around my abdomen, staring at her computer screen while Haymitch and I try to figure out what's going on on the tv. Black and white nothingness pulses in time with the hum of the ultrasound machine, and occasionally the doctor will stop at a specific spot and type on her keyboard. There's no baby in sight, and I begin to relax a little. This goes on for about five minutes before Dr. Quillan decides to speak up.

"When was the date of your last period?" she asks abruptly. I blush and look at Haymitch, who seems not to have heard her.

"Uh, like two years ago," I say sheepishly. "Right before my first Games, I think."

"Really?" she sounds surprised. "Are you absolutely sure?" I nod and look up at her, but she's still focusing on the screen.

"Yes," I answer. She purses her lips and I feel defensive. "What? What's the matter?" I ask.

"Nothing's wrong," Dr. Quillan says quickly, and I can hear Haymitch shift beside me. I nervously clench my fingers tighter around his. "It's just odd that someone of your age with little physical limitations would stop menstruating for so long. Were you regular before the Games?"

I can practically feel my ears catching fire from embarrassment. "No," I answer. "I was starving over half the time."

She nods, completely oblivious to my discomfort. "Well, that certainly would have an affect on it. Stress will also change your cycle. But neither would be enough to completely stop menstruation for so long..." I watch as she leans over and flicks off the ultrasound machine; the loud noises it emits suddenly quiet down to nothing. The tv clicks off as well.

Nervousness settles in my stomach and I lick my dry lips. Why did she do that? She hasn't told us anything! Am I pregnant or not?

"Well?" Haymitch pipes up, making me jump. I don't remember the last time I was this jumpy. He looks at the doctor with narrowed eyes. "Is she pregnant?"

I hold my breath and stare at Dr. Quillan's face.

Please say no...

Please say no...

_Please say no..._

"Yes," she nods, "You're definitely pregnant, Katniss."

I squeeze my eyes shut and breathe in sharply. A million thoughts flood my mind but I shove them aside to prevent a panic attack. To preserve my sanity, I imagine myself in a better place. Maybe at home... Or the woods. Definitely with Peeta. Oh look, Prim's here too. I'm not pregnant, and Peeta's not suicidal.

It's a good life.

"Katniss, open your eyes." Haymitch's voice is weary. I reluctantly open them, trying to hold back angry tears. I can't believe this. Dr. Quillan hands me a rag to wipe off my stomach, and then looks at me directly in the eyes. It doesn't help that her blue orbs are only a few shades darker than Peeta's.

"Okay, Katniss," says Dr. Quillan quietly. I'm reminded of how a mother would talk to a small child. "I need you to stay here and talk with me for a bit until I can let you see Peeta. I just need to ask you some questions pertaining to your baby, alright?"

"What?" I exclaim, bolting upright. The sudden movement causes my head to spin. "No! I need to see Peeta! You've got your ultrasound!"

Dr. Quillan gives me a sad look. "Katniss, I'm sorry, but I really think-"

"Let her go," Haymitch pipes up, getting to his feet. "I'll take her to see Peeta and then you two can talk later."

I shoot him a grateful look as Dr. Quillan stands. "Mr. Abernathy-" she starts, but he cuts her off.

"I wasn't asking. Let's go Katniss." Haymitch crosses over to the door, and waits as I shakily climb out of bed. I'm pleased to see I still have my normal clothes on. I hate hospital gowns.

"I'll see you tomorrow," I tell Dr. Quillan, passing her and meeting Haymitch at the door. "We'll talk then."

"Fine," she replies, clearly upset about Haymitch's behavior. He ignores her and leads me down the hallway. Moments later, my room is completely out of sight.

I suppose District Four's hospital is a nice one. Luxurious, even. But my mind pays no attention to it at all. I can only focus on Peeta.

"Where is he?" I ask Haymitch worriedly, looking into every room we pass. A doctor in one catches my eye, but I look away before she can say anything to me.

"One floor up," he replies, steering me towards a staircase. We climb it quickly, and the jolting my footsteps cause makes my head burn. Ignoring my pain, I let Haymitch lead me past tired-looking doctors and nurses, and down a narrow hallway on our right. Three doors line each wall, each painted a pale blue.

"The last door on the right," Haymitch tells me. "There shouldn't be anyone in there but him."

The knot I've been carrying around in my stomach tightens as I run towards the door. I slam through it, finally able to see the boy I'm going to marry.

What I see makes my already-broken heart break again.

There, on the bed, lies a broken person. Whirring machines and blinking dials surround him, but I can still make him out. A plastic tube is shoved down his throat, attached to a machine that I presume is breathing for him. Thick layers of bandages encase his abdomen, where the knife punctured his skin. An IV is attached to his arm, along with several other needles. Who knows what they contain.

"Peeta?" I whimper, rushing over to where he lies. "Peeta..." At first, I'm afraid to go near him, thinking that if I do, I'll probably end up ripping the wires out of him by accident. However, it's simply too painful to bear to just look at him from the end of his bed. In a few seconds, I have a chair pulled up to his side and my hand holding onto his. Tears streak down my cheeks as I rub my thumb across the back of his hand.

"Hi," I whisper, bringing his hand up and kissing his fingers. Just like he did for me in the cave. I look at his face, but most of it is covered by the plastic mask he's forced to wear. I'm able to kiss his forehead, though, and both of his closed eyes. Of course, he doesn't respond and that just makes me cry harder. I look down at his limp hand, so much bigger than mine, but yet still so weak-looking. I kiss his fingers again, then hold them tightly in both of my hands.

"I'm here now, baby," I choke out, barely above a whisper. I sniff and then lean down to kiss his forehead again. I let mine rest against his for a moment. I close my eyes. Try to breathe.

"What were you thinking!?" I cry, sitting up and looking at his bandaged stomach. "Why would you do that to us?!" The bandages the doctors used are identical to the ones that were wrapped around his leg after our Games. Stark-white, stiff, and smelling like blood. The thought makes me physically cringe. "Why?" I ask again, bringing my lips back to his fingers. "Why?!"

I'm only answered with silence. Dr. Quillan's voice rings in the back of my mind._ In all honesty, he could go either way with this. _For the first time, looking at his pale skin... those sunken eyes...

I actually believe her.

There is a very real chance that Peeta could truly die here. Right this very second. And there's absolutely nothing I can do for him. This isn't the Capitol. These doctors aren't capable of performing miracles on a daily basis. _There's nothing I can do. _

Isn't it ironic that for years, both of us were constantly in mortal peril, and mere months after that peril ends, Peeta finds a way to end up right back on death's door? Mere _months_ afterwards. And the worst part?

_I never got to say goodbye. _

Fresh sobs wrack my body, each one more forceful than the last. I lean my head forward onto our hands, rocking back and forth.

"I love you."

The words tumble out of my mouth without my summoning. I wipe my eyes on the back of my arm, and sniff pointlessly. "I love you," I say again, pushing his hair out of the way and kissing his forehead again. "I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you."

His face remains as passive as ever. I have no way of knowing if he can hear me right now. I'd like to think that a part of him can. A small, magnificent part of him locked deep down in the recesses of his mind, fighting to get back to me.

I would really like to think that.

"This might be goodbye," I breathe, moving my head against his. My tears quickly splash onto his skin, making it as damp as mine. "I'm not ready, but this could really be it." It seems that I'm unable to say more than a few words without crying or kissing him again. I do both. "I'm really pissed at you, you know," I tease, laughing a little against him. I press my lips to his hair. "You never told me you wanted to leave me. I had no idea." My mind travels back to the night of our engagement, and then farther back to the lake. "I thought you were happy..." My lips move back to his forehead. "I thought we were going to have an eternity...right?" I play with his fingers and look at my ring. I squeeze my eyes shut and press my face against him. "And I'm really sorry," I cry, my voice breaking, "for all of the things I put you through. Every time I broke your heart. The lies... the acts. Every fake kiss I ever gave you." I kiss his fingers again, since the things I really want to kiss are hiding behind plastic. "But it became real, you know," I continue, wiping my eyes again. "between the two of us." I kiss his eyes once more, than lean my forehead down on his again. "And I _know, _inmy_ heart, _that_ nobody_ can ever come close to having the love that we do." I reach my hand up and cup his cheek. "Because I love _you_. And no one else." It takes a few minutes of crying before I'm able to speak again. "And I'm sorry it took me so long to admit it to you," my cracked lips find his hair again. "Even when I knew you were hurting, I still waited to tell you. I still waited to even talk to you." I shake my head at my stupidity. "We could have had a few more months, but I waited..." I grab his hand and stand up shakily. "And I'm so... so _sorry_ that you might never see the face of our baby." I pull up my shirt and press his fingers onto my stomach, over the place where our baby is. I choke out a quiet laugh, tasting salty tears in my mouth. "I hope it's a boy. He'd look just like you, I bet. But with my eyes, probably." Despite my reservations, I can picture it now- a mini Peeta, toddling around after his dad, getting spun around in his strong arms, running into our room during a storm... "And maybe, when you're better and he's older..." my voice starts shaking as sobs take over again. "Maybe... maybe you could teach him how to bake? Or paint? I-I'd like that." I sink down into my chair, but I keep his fingers on my stomach. "Yeah... I'd like that a lot."

I stare at our hands for a moment, and imagine that little boy painting me a picture. It's not very good, because no one has taught him how to paint. He's using old supplies that he found in my closet, tucked away in a box of memories. I kiss his blonde head and look over his shoulder as a dark-haired woman appears on the canvas. She's holding the hand of a blonde boy and another dark-haired man. But unlike the woman, he has a feature-less face. "_Who's that?" I ask, pointing to the man. The boy smiles and looks up at me, his grey eyes shining. "Daddy," he replies. _

I close my eyes and press Peeta's hand harder against my stomach. "Give him a picture to paint, Peeta," I whisper. I place his hand back on the bed and pull down my shirt. "Please," I beg, kissing his face wherever I can reach. "Give him a picture to paint."

* * *

For the next several hours, I keep my hand glued to Peeta's. Every so often I kiss him and try to control my crying.

It doesn't work.

I pass the time alternating between resting my head on our hands, and then on his head, whispering random things into his ear. I must have told him I loved him a thousand times by now. Every half hour or so a doctor comes in, looks at the machines, checks Peeta's breathing and bandages, then leaves. They always explain what they're doing, but I don't listen. I just wipe my eyes and stare at Peeta's face, occasionally kissing his fingers. The doctors only stay for a few minutes, leaving me free to talk to Peeta for the rest of the time.

"Do you want me to sing?" I ask him, clearing my throat. He doesn't move of course, but it's nice to pretend the little part inside of him nods his head. I squeeze his hand and smile softly. "You always feel better when I sing. Which song?" I ask pointlessly, stupidly pausing as though I expect an answer.

Silence.

"I'll sing you a lullaby," I continue. A part of me wonders if I'm going crazy, but I push the thought aside. Didn't I know the answer to that a long time ago? "Remember," I whisper to him, "I love you."

I start singing, softly and sweetly:

_Deep in the meadow, under the willow,  
A bed of grass, a soft green pillow  
Lay down your head, and close your sleepy eyes  
And when you wake, the sun will rise._

_..._

_Here it's safe, and here it's warm  
Here the daisies guard you from every harm  
Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true  
Here is the place where I love you._

_..._

_Deep in the meadow, hidden far away  
A cloak of leaves, a moonbeam ray  
Forget your woes and let your troubles lay  
And when again it's morning, they'll wash away._

_..._

_Here it's safe, and here it's warm  
Here the daisies guard you from every harm  
Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true  
Here is the place where I love you.  
_

_..._

When I'm done singing, I take a look around the empty room. Never before have I felt so alone. I stretch out my legs, and my foot comes into contact with something soft under Peeta's bed. I reach down and grab it- a spare hospital blanket. I cover myself up with it. Snaking out a hand to grab Peeta's once more, I fully let myself feel the dull ache where my heart should be. I give Peeta's face one last kiss.

"Give him a picture to paint," I beg of him softly. My eyes flutter closed. "I love you."

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